


Princess (Ziam) (BoyxBoy)

by British_1D_Irish



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Abuse, Boyband, Boys In Love, BoyxBoy, Bullied Liam, Bully Zayn, Bullying, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 57
Words: 211,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/British_1D_Irish/pseuds/British_1D_Irish
Summary: Zayn has tormented Liam throughout all of highschool. Liam is openly gay, which is what Zayn mainly touches on. His favorite way to tease and bully Liam is by calling him "Princess", but when another bully dares to mess with Liam and Zayn begins to learn more about the boy he teases, the mocking word becomes a loving one."You're my Princess, Liam"





	1. Bully

LIAM

It was early in the morning, the sky not the usual clear blue that it always was. It was cloudy- a grey glow covering everything. I could tell it was going to rain, but I enjoyed the rain. It made everything seem so much calmer. Maybe it was because so many people seemed sleepy when it rained.

I got my bag and hung it over my shoulder, slowly opening my bedroom door and looking over to where my parent's door was. I crept out and slowly closed the door behind me. I walked down the hallway quickly but quietly, trying to sneak by unheard.

I was almost past the door when it opened. I held my breath, hoping for the best. I let it out when it was only my mum, walking out and tying her dressing gown tightly around her waist and turning to me.

"Is dad up yet?" I whispered, hoping with all my might that he wasn't. I usually left a bit earlier than I was leaving today, but I spent a good time of this morning just look out of my window at all the gloomy greyness, just dreading everything that could possibly happen today.

"No, sweetheart. He's still sleeping, but he'll be up any minute. You should get going now." My mum said gently. I nodded my head before continuing to walk to the stairs. "Oh, and have a good day sweetie." I nodded, eventhough I knew it would be anything but good.

I walked to school, like I do every single day, feeling a few drops of rain sprinkle down on me, barely getting started. I knew it would rain a bit harder soon, and if I didn't get to school I would be drenched. I didn't have a coat or a jumper or anything- not even an umbrella. Those were a luxury I didn't get to have.

Luckily, I saw the school building just as the rain began to pick up. I ran towards the tan building, hearing the soft patters of rain hitting the pavement around me. I tried to cover my head with my arm, attempting to not get completely covered in rain, but it only did so much.

I finally made it to the school building, pushing one of the front door open and walking inside. The thing was, I had no idea if it was better to be standing out in the rain or standing in the middle of a hallway with people staring and judging you. The softness of the rain, or the harsh glares.

I shook my head, getting rid of some rain from my hair, and I made my way to my locker. I unlocked it with my combination and then swung my bag around to the front to get my stuff out. I sighed as I saw that it was wet, a few of the raindrops wetting my textbooks and one sheet of my math homework. Great.

"Aww, did Payno get wet today?" I heard a mocking tone ask. I closed my eyes, never wanting to open them, but that would only make things worse. I turned and saw Louis standing there. Louis was best friends with my bully, so it was natural that he picked on me as well. What friend would he be if he didn't.

"Oh, Zayn's gonna have so many jokes about this." He said, walking closer to me with a devious smirk on his face. He was so full of it. Him and Zayn. See, Zayn Malik was one of the worst people you could ever associate yourself with, and that seemed to only draw people near.

He was popular, but he didn't fit that stereotype. He wasn't a jock or very social, but he was hot. I hated to admit it, but Zayn was good-looking, which was one of the things he loved to use to tease me. Apparently I was attracted to any guy just because I was gay. That couldn't be more far from the truth. I was only attracted to Zayn, but he was an ass, and letting him know that would ruin me for good.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as the bell rang and Louis slapped my bag out of my hand, making things spill out and fall onto the ground. "Better get to class. Don't want to be late now, do you?" He laughed, slamming my locker shut as he walked by.

I groaned, seeing I had five minutes to get to class. I quickly opened my locker again, shoving all of my stuff that I didn't need inside and closing it shut. I practically ran down the halls, trying to make it to my first period history class.

The bell rang just as I got to the door, but I wasn't inside of the room, which meant one thing. "Mr. Payne, I hope you have a good reason for being late." Mrs. Martin said. I would try and reason that I'm not really even late, but she was the strictest teacher in the school. She expected a lot, and if she didn't get it, you were in trouble.

"U-um, no ma'am. I don't." I said, frowning as she nodded, getting out a pink detention slip and signing it off for me. She handed me the slip and told me to sit down. I couldn't believe I was actually going to have to go to detention. It's never happened. What would my dad say?

I didn't have time to worry about him because I already had one enemy to worry about- Zayn. I slowed my pace down as I saw him smirking at me. I resented the fact that his seat was right behind mine, giving him the opportunity to mess with me as much as he wanted without getting into trouble. Grown-ups thought Zayn was an angel when he was really the devil.

I sat in my chair and tensed up as I felt Zayn lean forward, feeling his breath in my neck as he whispered "Did you miss me, princess? Are you wet from the rain or from thinking of me doing things to you?" He asked.

"Fuck off, Malik." I replied, mumbling it a bit, and I heard him give a cold chuckle as Mrs. Martin began writing on the chalkboard, the sound of the chalk clacking through out the room.

I felt him grab my hair, pulling it, and I gave a strangled gasp at the sudden pain. "Listen here, princess, you don't talk to me that way. Ever." I was at a loss when all I could imagine was the harsh look Zayn's eyes must hold right now. That piercing look haunted my nightmares.

"Just be a good little fag and keep your mouth shut. Nobody wants you or loves you, so if anyone should fuck off, it's you. Isn't that why nobody talks to you? Because you're so desperate for the slightest of attention." I felt him hold on my hair tighten, and I bit my lip to not yell out in pain.

I noticed a few people watching, but they didn't say a word. Why would they? Zayn basically ran the school and they all worshipped the damn ground he walked on. He was like a god to them, and it was sickening.

"Oh, but don't worry, princess." Zayn whispered in my ear, his voice sounding dark and full of hatred. "I won't leave you alone. Ever. Because ruining your life is just too much fucking fun."

With that, he let go of my hair, pushing my head forward. My hand went to my head, rubbing over the stinging part of my scalp. It felt like my hair was almost ripped out of my head from how tight he gripped it. I hated Zayn so much. He was nothing but rough and evil.

That's how it always was though- him constantly assaulting me in any way he knew how and getting away with it every time. He even had Louis looking out for him, threatening anyone who even dreamed of telling about his ways. They were partners in crime- tough to beat and dangerous to challenge. I was hopeless.

Sitting through both first and second period with Zayn or Louis so nearby was everyday torture. Classes were full of small hits, hair pulls, insulting words, telling me I'd be better off dead, spitballs, and every now and then just plain humiliating me in front of the whole class, laughter filling my ears and drowning out everything else but the way it all hurt.

I don't even know if they were aware, but it hurt. It hurt worse than anything. No, that was a lie. Knowing that they hated me for being who I was did hurt, but not as much as knowing my father disowned me for being that person. Nobody knew, but nobody would even care. And why did I care? Because he was the man who always said he loved me, who told me I would be an incredible man one day, who taught me everything I know.

Lunchtime. I despised lunch time. I didn't eat lunch. The lunchroom was a social place, only for people who had friends. I had none. No one even glanced my way in the halls unless it was with a hateful stare. They all criticized me... because I was the only one to come out to everyone. I don't even want to imagine how others who might be harboring the same secret felt. Scared, embarrassed, and unsure.

I sat against the back fence of the school, leaning near a tree and reading a book. This was the only place I felt comfortable at lunch time because no one ever came back here. I was never bothered by anybody. It was my moment of peace, and I would snatch up the opportunity to feel this tranquility any time of day.

I was flipping to the next page of my book when I heard footsteps coming closer to me. I froze, not wanting to even look up because I feared who it could be. I peeked up a bit, letting out a breath as I didn't see combat boots in front of me.

"Sorry, kid, but you're gonna have to move. We have to cut some branches off the trees today. Go eat inside with all the rest of the kiddos." The guy told me as I looked up at him. There was a truck pulled up onto the grass, two other guys getting ladders and tools out to cut some branches off. Why did this have to happen today?

"Yeah, okay. Sorry for being in the way." I mumbled, putting my bookmark in my book and closing it before standing up. I walked away from the trees and the gate, a feeling of dread washing over me at the fact that I was going to have to go to the cafeteria. The principal didn't like kids eating in the front of the school, it gave them the opportunity to skip, and if she saw me out there I would get another detention.

I sighed as I made my way into the building, walking closer to the cafeteria. I heard yelling, hollars and loud conversations, as I reached the large cafeteria doors. It was intimidating, and my heart was beating at a thousand thumps per minute, but I finally pushed the door open and walked in.

Silence filled the cafeteria as people saw me walk in, and my self-consciousness took over. I tried to make myself seem smaller, invisible, as my eyes scanned the room for an empty table. I found one in the corner of the room, and I made a bee line for the table, hoping to just finish the next few minutes of lunch in peace. I hoped kids were more interested in their food than in teasing someone who hardly even came to lunch.

I sat down at the table, immediatelt opening up my book and diving right back in to the story. I tried to get back into the character's lives, hoping that theirs would be better than mine. It was a distraction, and it seemed to always work. Always- until right now.

I flinched as my book was snatched from my and slammed shut, being dropped onto the table. I was angry about losing my page, but looking up into Zayn's cold and empty brown eyes made all of my words get caught in my throat.

"Finally decided to come eat lunch today, princess? Where do you spend it every other day? Hmm? Purging everything up in the toilet?" He asked harshly, and I just looked away. I hated that he used actual life problems as things to hurt me. Truth was, I didn't purge, but I also hardly ate. It was hard to eat when you were so full of sadness.

"And what makes you think you have the right to sit at my table?" He asked, smirking as I tried to think of a reply that wouldn't result in my inevitable demise.

"I-it was empty-" I tried, but he suddenly laughed loudly, making me flinch again. He put his hands on the table before leaning in to look at me with those piercing eyes that seemed to see through to my soul.

"I don't really give a fuck. Every table in this damned cafeteria could've been empty, but that doesn't give you a right to sit in any of them." He sneered, and then called for Louis. I tried to get up to leave, knowing things were about to get serious, but Zayn pushed me back in my seat. "No running away. Wouldn't want you to lose a precious slipper or anything."

"Yeah, Zayn?" Louis asked, confused at first, but smiling widely with a knowing glint in his eyes as he saw me sitting there, fear probably written all over my face. It wasn't like I liked being afraid- I just couldn't control my expressions or body when I was.

"This little princess thinks sitting here is perfectly fine. Think he needs his own thrown, am I right?" He asked, and Louis smirked right back at him before agreeing with him. "And I've got just the throne for you."

I gasped as Louis and Zayn suddenly lifted me out of the chair I was in, barely having any trouble even with my struggling. People were beginning to notice and they laughed, phones coming out to record again. It was a typical routine, but never at lunch time.

I tried to break free from their holds, but they were so tight, fingers probably bruising my skin from how harsh they were. It was anything but gentle. It was raw and ruthless- no empathy or sympathu behind the acts they performed.

Suddenly, I was thrown into a trash can, my bottom sinking in a bit as my arms and legs dangled, straining to hold myself up. I thought that was the end of it, but Zayn was never done that quickly. There had to be something more. Something extra fun.

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Everyone gets a free chance to throw food at the hungry boy!" He called out, and that was that. That was all it took before food began to get flung at me from all angles, different meals hitting me all over.

Mashed potatoes from here, macaroni from there, spaghetti right on my face, chocolate milk drenching my shirt. It was all so much, things stinging my eyes, falling into my mouth, and covering my face. I would cry, but I couldn't. I was too busy flinching at every impact that hit me. It was dish after dish covering me up, some people even getting so comfortable with it as to throw their whole food tray at me.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the bell to get to class rang. Lunch was over, but I was a mess and probably smelled worse than I looked. How would I walk into class like this? Everyone would know and remember and laugh.

People began leaving the cafeteria, high fiving one another and laughing about what just happened. I heard a few camera snaps as some people took pictures, and I looked down, trying my best to hide my face from the camera as I felt tears pool in my eyes. I wanted to cry, but Zayn was still here.

He walked up to me and lifted my head, smiling super friendly- too friendly. He gave me a mock look of sympathy as he lifted my chin, seeing my eyes beginning to water. "Aww, don't worry, princess." He smirked at me before placing a banana peel right on top of my head. "There. Now you've got your crown. Happy ruling." He called before chuckling and walking away with Louis.

I struggled for a while, crying heavily as soon as I hit the ground on my knees. I couldn't even wipe my eyes unless I wanted them to burn from all the gunk that was covering my hands. The sobs wracked through my body, but I knew I still had to go to class.

I walked back over to the table, grabbing my book again before walking out of the cafeteria. The halls were full of kids trying to get to their next class of the day, and I kept my head down as tears fell from my eyes. I wouldn't let them enjoy me crying because of them. It would be too satisfying on their end.

I made it to my class, only seeing three kids there. They smiled at one another as soon as they saw me, but my teacher gasped. Her name was Mrs. Carrs, and she was probably the only person that showed me any kindness at school.

She rushed me and pulled me outside to talk to me as other kids went into the classroom. "Oh, Liam. What happened?" She asked, having never seen me in this condition before.

Just as she asked that, Zayn walked by, going into class. He gave me a warning glare behind her back, and I spat out a lie from fear. "Nothing. I'm just r-really clumsy. Fell right into the trash can when I wasn't paying attention. Too caught up in reading." I said, holding up the book.

She was an English teacher, so I knew the excuse of getting caught up in a book would sell for her. She would believe it, and I was glad when she did. "It's great that you love reading, Liam, but maybe watch where you walk next time." She said, a small laugh leaving her lips. "I'll give you a pass so you can clean up."

She went into the room and wrote me a hall pass. I was so thankful as I made my way to the restroom. I looked into the mirror, seeing how horrid I looked. I was so embarrassed.

The chocolate milk was clumped in my hair with the macaroni, making it an even uglier shade of brown. There was spaghetti hanging all over me, and mashed potatoes littered my face and shirt. It was so bad, but all I could do was try and wash up.

I washed my face first, trying to remove everything from my hands and face before I took my shirt off, cleaning it in the sink carefully. Sure, it would be a bit damp after drying it with the hand dryer, but it'll have to do. Lost and found never had any articles clothing in it.

I was wringing out my shirt still when the door opened and closed. I felt a bit self-conscious at the thought of someone seeing my shirtless. Shit! Would they see the bruises?

I looked in the mirror and saw Zayn standing behind me. I gave out a small breath. He wouldn't care about the bruises when he caused most of them. I saw him looking at me for a second, his eyes trained on my torso in the mirror, probably admiring his work. He sure does know how to beat the living daylights out of somebody.

It lasted for a second before he walked right behind me and turned me around, pinning my arms against the sink. "What the hell did you tell Mrs. Carrs?" He growled. "Did you snitch on me?"

"N-no!" I whimpered out, my eyes dropping drom his face. "No, I lied." I swore, not wanting another beating like the ones I always got from him.

"You better have." He said, and then he smirked at me, his eyes glancing over my body again, and I was so insecure. I fought to free my hands, wanting to wrap them around my stomach, but Zayn was stronger than I was.

"Not a bad build for a homo." He commented. "Tell me, princess," He whispered as he leaned in to me. "Is this one of your fantasies? Being pinned against the sink by me? Touching your body?" He asked, and I gulped.

"Getting hard, princess?" He teased with a sinister smirk. I hated him. I hated that it was tue even more. I despised the fact that Zayn was such an attractive person when he had such a hideous personality. They were exact opposites. "Too bad it'll never fucking happen." He said as he pushed me harder into the sink, making my back ache at the pressure.

He pushed me away and took a step back. "Hurry the hell up and get to class. Oh, and why spend time reading when you can watch the movie?" He asked, taking my book and throwing it in a sink before turning it on.

I screamed and quickly got it out as he walked away. His laughter was the last thing I heard before he was completely gone. What did I even do to deserve this?


	2. Detention

It was the end of the day, and my shirt was still drying. It got cold in my last period, but I just dealt with it, shivering as I tried to finish my worksheets. It's not like dealing with the cold was the worse thing I've had to face in my life. It was challenging, but I managed through out the tedious class period.

Now I was on my way to detention. I was terribly frightened because I had no idea what to expect. I have never gotten in trouble at school before. My whole entire educational career was the only clear thing I had about me, and this single detention would be like a blemish on my record- a bruise if you will.

I approached the door with small black letters that read DETENTION on it, and opened the door. The first thing I noticed was that there was only one other kid in here. A guy I have never seen before. He must be new to the school, but if so, how did he already get a detention?

He had on a red jacket, a black t-shirt, black jeans, and some black shoes with small red detailing. He seemed to have money- lots of it, but that didn't mean he was a good person. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes, I only noticed them because they locked onto mine, and I quickly looked away.

"You must be Payne. Got detention from first period, yeah?" The teacher asked, and I nodded, not saying a word. I handed him the detention slip and made my way to the back of the room as quickly as possible. I felt eyes on me the whole time, but I did my best to ignore them.

I finally made it to the seat in the corner and sat in it, immediately opening my book and beginning to read. I groaned in frustration as I saw that some of the pages were now stained from being wet. I hated Zayn so much. I hated his attitude and his stupid smirk. When would he get over himself? He was attractive, and I was gay. That much was obvious. But why press so much?

"Well, I'm going to run down to the break room to make some copies and get a drink. I want no talking or leaving while I'm gone. Doing so will result in another detention tomorrow after school. Gor that?" The teacher asked, looking at the both of us, and I nodded solemnly before beginning to read again, doing my best to make out the blurred words. 

He picked up a few things from the teacher's desk before walking out the door with another warning that I paid no attention to. It was silent for a few seconds, and then I heard a chair scraping against the floor as the other guy in the room stood from his desk. I looked up for a second, and our eyes locked again, and then he was walking towards me.

I averted my eyes from his, looking back down at my book as panic began to grow in my chest. All I could think about was the countless number of times Zayn has walked up to me, ready to hit me or kick me or say insult after insult. Nobody ever spoke to me in a friendly tone, and I'm pretty sure this guy has already caught on if he was here during lunch.

"Hey." I heard him say as he sat in the desk next to mine. I froze, not knowing what to expect, but I braced myself. All I could think about was Zayn's taunting voice. Sure, this guy's voice sounded nice and sweet, but so did Zayn's- even when he was being cold to me. It was all just an act. An act he seemed to have perfected as well.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." The guy said before laughing. It was a warm laugh, and I slowly let my guard down as I turned and looked at the guy. He was very attractive. Sure, he was being nice now, but would he still be if he knew I was into guys? I doubt it. So he didn't have to know.

"Yeah... sorry." I said, my voice sounding low and gentle, but it was really because of all the fear rushing through me. It was like it was all coursing through my veins at once because of this stranger talking to me. He was speaking to me like I was a human being, which was something I cherished right now.

"No need to apologize. You did nothing wrong." He said, and all that ran through my mind was that I disappointed my father for being gay. Zayn said my existance was a mistake. It wasn't suppose to happen. It was all wrong. But I kept quiet and smiled slightly. "I'm Drew." He said, holding his hand out as he introduced himself.

"Liam." I replied, shaking his hand, not without hesitance. I pulled away a bit sooner than he did, but he didn't seem to mind anyway. "You're new here, right?" I asked, and he nodded his head. "Then what'd you do to get detention so quickly?" I asked.

He smiled a bit, thinking about what he did, and he laughed loudly. "Nothing too bad yet. Just put a few snails in some girl's purse. She screamed when she felt them against her phone. It was so worth it." He said, and I laughed, too. Snails weren't even scary. "What about you?" He asked suddenly, and I wanted to lie, but that was no use.

"Nothing. Just a second late to class." I said, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Really? Like, literally a second late?" He asked, and I nodded my head. "Damn. Your teacher must be strict as hell." He said, letting out another laugh, and I suddenly realized that my guard was completely down now. He was jusy so easy to talk to.

"Tell me about it." I said, and then I found myself complaining. "She once gave me a 'F' for not adding a 'The End' slide to my slideshow project. That's not even worth a slide!" I said, making Drew laugh again, and I found the sound quite appealing.

"Who the hell puts a 'The End' slide in any slideshow? The screen goes black at the end anyways." He pointed out, and I nodded in agreement. "So, you're a goodie-two shoes?" He asked, but he didn't sound rude or anything. He sounded genuinely curious.

"Uh... I guess. I have straight A's, spend lots of time in the library for my work, and I always do what I'm told." Well, almost everything. "I guess I just hate trouble." I said, and I notice him smirk at the wall, shaking his head a bit as those words left my mouth.

"Too bad. Trouble's fun." He said. "See you after, Liam." He said before getting up and going back to his chair, sitting down in it as soon as the door opened and that same teacher walked in with a stack of papers and a mug of tea. This was clearly not Drew's first detention ever.  
\------------------------------------------------------

Detention went by slow, but I didn't mind too much. I got a lot of reading done and nobody teased me or harassed me or hit me. It was pretty calming, almost making me want to go again if I didn't already know how my father would react to it.

"Hey, Liam, wait up!" I heard a voice call as I began to walk down the sidewalk. I turned in surprise and saw Drew running up to me with one strap of his backpack on his shoulder. He was pretty fast runner, and I knew that if he was going to hurt me, there'd be no point in running anyway.

"Hey. Why do you always look scared for your life whenever someone approaches you?" He asked jokingly, and I tried to give out a laugh, but I couldn't bring myself to. "Nevermind. Anyway, I was wondering if you had any classes with me tomorrow. Here's my schedule." He said, pulling it from his pocket and handing it to me.

I looked down at the schedule as we began to walk down the sidewalk. A part of me was hoping we had classes together because tomorrow was my bad day. Zayn was in all of my electives. Art, music, gym, and in my study hall. He never even studied!

The other part of me was hoping we didn't thought because then he would see that I wasn't the right person to hang around. I was the laughing stalk of the school and everyone knew it. He would, too because Zayn would make sure of that. He was the number one reason I had no friends... well, number two reason.

"We have second together. That's right before lunch. We sit in groups in music. It's suppose to help is vibe off of each other, but I always sit alone." I said, and then I handed his schedule back, regretting that confession. He didn't need to know everything.

"Why? No one to vibe with?" He joked, and I played it off with a laugh and a small nod. "Well maybe I can sit with you. What's your music taste like?" He asked, and I shrugged. I honestly didn't stick to one genre, but I knew that my favorite was probably stuff like R&B or pop/rock.

"Well, I could tell you, or I could just show you tomorrow." I said, feeling more confident in that response than I even thought I would.

"I think I'll take you up on that offer." He said with a smirk. "I'll see you tomorrow." He said, and I waved as he turned down another street. I continued my walk home, wondering if it could be true that I just made a friend. I'm not one for friends, and maybe he'll realize I'm not who he should hang with when Zayn messes with me tomorrow. Still, it would last for a few hours.

I made my way back home, hesitating at the front door because my dad's car was in the driveway. I took a deep breath and went inside, ignoring everything and trying to just race to my room, but I froze as I heard my dad speak up.

"How was school?" He asked in his deep and sinister voice. On the outside he seemed nice and loving and accepting, but it was all a front. On the inside he was evil, vile, and cruel. He hated me, and he hasn't missed an opportunity to tell me so.

"Fine." I whispered, hoping he's just leave me alone for once so I could go and do my homework. It's not like I wanted to be cooped up all day due to fear, but I had nothing better to do. Plus, it was my life. Some people get handed a good one, and some have to go through crap before it gets there. I tried everyday to believe that at least.

"Excuse me? Can you speak up for once in your fucking life? Shit, a fucking mouse could squeak louder than you could speak! Such a fucking pansy. Why the hell did I get stuck with a little bitch for a son?" He yelled, so I spoke up, gave him what he wanted.

"School was fine." I said, speaking in a normal tone of voice, even if I wanted to cower away or yell in rage. I don't think it was normal for you to see shades of red because of how angry a family member made you.

"Well, what do you know? The fucking fairy has a voice." He joked, but the name calling hurt. All the teasing and joking cut me open like nothing else, but I had to act tough.

"Now if only he wasn't a fuck up and liked the right sex." He spat. I closed my eyes, trying not to lash out and give him what he wanted.

I tried to walk away from him, attempting to go up the stairs and to my room, but he walked in front of me and glared down at me. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" He demanded to know.

"To my room. I have homework." I said, trying my best not to stutter. I knew showing the fear in my voice would only make it worse, but I couldn't help it at times. I couldn't control the emotions.

"You have all fucking day to do homework. And what's even the point? You're not going to college. That's a free pass to allowing you to run around and do who knows what with random guys. Having them defile your body like the fucking sinner you are. You'd let them though wouldn't you? Because you're a little gay slut!" He yelled, his hands wrapping around my arms tightly, and I gasped as he pushed me roughly to the wall.

"Please, can I just-"

"Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, his hand making contact with my cheek, and I knew better than to speak again. I've been through this countless times. I knew the routine. Let him hit me and beat me, convince him he's 'beating the gay out of me' because if I fihht back, it's the basement for me.

"You know what, where were you? You're late coming home." He noted, and I gulped, hoping he wouldn't ask that.

"I... I was late to class." I said, seeing him gein wickedly at me. "But it wasn't my fault! It was another guy who-"

"I don't give a damn about your little fuck buddy!" He seethed, and I almost choked because that was far from what was going on. Zayn hated me more than anything, and to think of him as anything other than my bully made me sick to my stomach. I hated him just as much.

"Walk!" My dad said, pushing me towards the hall. I knew he would take me to the basement, and I really didn't want to go. Too much has happened today, and I didn't want to be in the dark with him. Receiving more pain, but having it feel so much worse due to my lack of vision.

"Please, no! I'll do better! It won't happen again!" I begged, but all I got was a kick to the stomach, making me fall on the ground.

"Get your ass up and walk." He demanded, and I nodded, groaning as I crawled up and negan to walk down the hall, stopping at the door that led down to the basement. I knew it was cold and dark down there. Nothing was kept down there anymore. Nothing except for things he used to torture me.

"Go down, stand by your wall." He ordered, and I knew what wall he meant. The wall with the chains. The back wall in the darkest part of the basement. Furthest away from the door to help block out my cries of pain.

I walked down and stood there, blinded in the dark. I jumped as I felt him grab my wrist and then felt the cold metal of the chains behind secured around it. Same with the other. Then, I gritted my teeth in pain as a belt came in contact with my waist. It was his belt with the metal studs. It hurt like hell.

To make it worse, he went to the little freezer he kept in the corner and took out a piece of ice, rubbing it until the numbness hurt my body, then came another slap to the waist.

I gasped in pain, trying my best not to yell or cry. I knew he enjoyed the tortured sounds, and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Sadly, that only made him more angry. His hits became worse and much more frequent. Hit after hit after hit. My skin burning in pain from the studs, and I knew it would look raw and red- probably bloody.

I must have blacked out once or twice, amongst the hits and insults. The next thing I knew, the pain was over and the chains were being removed from around my wrists. I collapsed to the floor, feeling rather broken and exhausted. Everything hurt, it all felt strained, and I just wanted to sleep.

My dad carried me all the way back to my room, laying me down on my bed as he said "I'll cure you eventually. Remember, you tell your mum about this, you're dead."

I nodded my head as best I could, letting him know I understood. It was why he only hit me in places you couldn't see, or if it was the face, it was always a fleeting hit- one that wouldn't really leave a mark. My mum didn't know. She thought it was just the insults and the inablility to deal with my sexuality. She didn't know, and I don't think I wanted her to. It was so shameful, and I didn't want to be that weak.

"Go to sleep." He said, turning off the lights and slamming the door shut behind him. This moment. This was the second time of day where I could be alone. Only my thoughts were there to comfort me, and they may not have ever been good thoughts, but I cherished them anyway. They were a part of me that nobody would know.

I stares at the ceiling, a tear or two spilling down my cheeks as I felt dizzy from yet another beating. How did I handle it all? Zayn and my dad. It was too much, and my body never had time to heal, but I guess it wasn't the worse life to live. I just wish the hate was for something other than me just being myself.

I closed my eyes and curled up into a ball, hugging my pillow to me as I slowed my breathing, sleep finally pulling me under and releasing me from the pain.


	3. Shreds

Another day of school. Another day of dealing with people. Another day of getting judged. Another day of getting bullied. But things were different today because I knew I could talk to Drew- until he realizes I'm the loser of the school.

    I walked into first period, almost limping from the soreness in my side, feeling nervous as I sat in my seat. Art class never went well for me. Every time we had a project to do, I'd have to start over multiple times because Zayn would always ruin it. This was probably the only class I considered hard because of that simple fact.

    I sat there, waiting for class to start and for directions to be given. I tensed up when Zayn walked into the classroom. His eyes scanned for seats, and I kept my head down, but it didn't work because soon he was sitting beside me, hitting the back of my head and saying "Miss me, princess?"

    I didn't reply. I just sat there, wishing this class could be over soon, but I knew it wasn't just this class. His harassment would continue on all day, following me classroom to classroom because he tried to take the seat next to me in order to be able to bother me. I'll hand it to him, he was clever about that, but it sucked to deal with.

    "No response, hmm? Still mad at me for yesterday? Because if you are you can just get over that. Stop being such a bitch and suck it up, princess." He said menacingly, and I let out a sigh of relief as the class finally started.

    We were making clay figures today. It had to be based off of Roman or Greek figurehead sculptures, and I was actually very excited for this project. I loved working with clay first of all, and I feel like this could be fun.

    I grabbed my slab of clay and began to roll it in my hands, getting it warm so it was able to be a bit easier to sculpt with. I enjoyed the smooth and cool texture of the clay, and it was calming until Zayn had to open his mouth and ruin the calm atmosphere.

    "This project's fucking stupid. Only idiots would like something like this. That means you probably like it, right princess?" He smirked, and I bit my tongue, not wanting to say anything that would get me beaten up today. I wanted to delay that for as long as I could- or at least until my dad's marks fade a bit.

   "Tell me, do you like working with clay because it feels nice and heavy in your hands? Bet you like things like that. Like imagining it's some guy that you like. Because you wanna be good with your hands, don't you princess?" He asked, sounding as if he knew it to be a fact.

    "I like art." I simply said, leaving it at that, but that only made Zayn laugh loudly. People turned to look at us, and flushed a bit because I knew that they were all thinking I said something stupid or gay to make Zayn react that way. They were all manipulated by him.

    "Mr. Malik, is there something funny?" Our teacher asked, crossing his arms as he looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Zayn gave a 'genuine' smile, one that only I saw through. He put up the nice act for adults, but I knew how cruel he truly was, and I would always know it.

    "Nothing at all Mr. Garza. Liam here was just telling me about his day yesterday. He fell into a trashcan accidentally. Isn't that right, Liam?" Zayn asked, glancing at me with a look that said I better agree or else.

    "Yes, sir. It was so embarrassing." I said, and Mr. Garza only nodded before moving on to look at other classmate's sculptures. Some of them seemed to be coming out great, and I noticed that I haven't even started yet.

    "Crap." I whispered, slabbing down my clay before I began to form and shape it into the figurehead that I wanted to do. The person had to look chiseled, which was honestly the toughest part of it all. 

    I tried to concentrate really hard on making the face looked chipped and chiseled, but all I managed to do was cut off a portion of clay that was a necessary part of the face. I groaned in annoyance as I laid my head down. "This is impossible." I muttered to myself.

    "Aww, is the princess having trouble? What is it? Frustrated at clay getting underneath your perfecr little fingernails?" Zayn teased, and I rolled my eyes because it's not like he could see anyway.

    "Wow. You really messed up." He said, looking at my ruined sculpture. "It's fixable though. Want me to help?" He asked, and I quickly looked up at him, my mouth hanging open in shock because the world must be ending! When the hell would Zayn Malik ever ask me if I needed help? He must've been drugged or something.

    "I cam clearly fix it." Zayn said, gesturing to his sculpture, which I'd admit looked great. It was funny how he hardly even tried at art, but his pieces always turned out the best. Then again, that was with every subject. That's just how Zayn was.

    "Um... yes please." I asked, and Zayn smirked before standing from his chair and walking behind mine to have a closer look at my work. I felt his breath on my neck, and I hated to admit that it gave me shivers. I hated to admit it because I hated him.

    "Well, this will be an easy fix. Let me see your hands." He said, and I awkwardly held my hands up a bit. He lifted them a bit higher in his own hands, and I gasped, making a strangled sound in the back of my throat, as Zayn smashed my hands rigjt over my artwork, smashing the clay back into nothing.

    "See? Easy fix. Have fun sculpting, princess." He laughed, sitting back down with his work as I stared at mine, trying not to tear up before starting again. Already my day was starting out badly.  
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     "Fucking hell!" I groaned as Zayn tripped me. He's been messing with me all the way to our music class, like always, but with this trip the waist line of my jeans rubbed against the raw skin from last night. It hurt like hell, and I hissed in pain, hoping it didn't draw any small blood spots, before getting back up.

    "You should really watch where you step, princess. Don't want you breaking a heel now do we?" He asked in a cocky tone. I only brushed past him and made my way to my seat in the back of the room. Zayn sat right beside me, and I already knew this would feel like hell. I already had to start my clay project over three times because he kept ruining it again and again. What would he do now?

    I was racking my brain for things Zayn could do when I saw Drew walking over to the empty chair to my left. He sat down saying "Hey, Liam. Ready to hear your music today."

   I blushed a bit, feeling rather nervous about that. I have never really showed someone my music or my lyrics before, so this was a scary thing for me to do- especially to someone I just met. But I would do this because I was willing to share pieces of me as long as it was to a friend. I've never really had a friend before.

    "Aww, that's cute. Does the little princess have a crush on the new boy?" Zayn asked, a wicked grin and a raised eyebrow on his face. "Might want to be careful there, mate. The disease might spread to you. If you haven't already caught it." He told Drew.

    I slumped a bit in my chair because there goes my one chance at having a friend. Now that Drew knew I was gay, he might just leave and judge me like everybody else in the school did. Especially because Zayn can be rather intimidating when he needs to be. It's why no one was allowed to mess with me unless he gave permission. According to him, only he could make my life a living hell. And he did a good job at it.

    "That's fucked up, dude. Why does it matter if he's gay?" Drew asked, and I felt my heart flutter a bit at the words. I've never had someone stand up for me or accept me like that. Sure, my mum accepted me, but she didn't know about everything going on. About the bullying, my dad's abuse, and she never spoke up about it. It was said once and left there to linger.

   "Interesting. I'm guessing you're a fag, too?" Zayn snarked. "Not surprising really." He said with a smile, and Drew grew defensive. It was clearly written on his face.

   "What the fuck is that suppose to mean? I know what I look like, and I am definitely not- not gay!" He raged, stuttering a bit, and that only made Zayn smile even wider as he gave out a humorless laugh.

    "Oh, this is too damn good. You're little friend here is in denial, princess. Why don't you blow him in the bathroom or something? Show him how much you'll both like it. Disgusting pieces of shit." He said. His voice was dark and low and his eyes only held hatred. It made my flinch, knowing that Zayn could hurt me any time he wanted.

    Drew looked about ready to explode, but he huffed and held it all in as the teacher began class. It started off the same as it always did, having us sing a few notes as warm-ups before we went off in seperate parts of the room to work on our music. Only this time, I wouldn't be alone.

   I took out my binder from my bag, took out one piece of music, and left the rest in the binder on my chair. I set my bag on top and made my way over to where Drew was motioning for me to go. I felt eyes on me, knowing they were probably Zayn's, but I ignored them and kept walking until I made it near the window by Drew.

   "So, wanna show me your music, or do you wanna see some of mine first?" He asked, and I pointed at him, feeling much too nervous and apprehensive to give a verbal reply. Drew only chuckled at that though and rummaged through his pack before pulling out a journal and handing it to me.

    I gave him a questioning look as I took the journal, turning it over in my hands. "Go ahead. Look through it." He said with a nod of his head. So, I opened uo to the first page, immediately seeing it filled with notes and lyrics.

    I sat on the floor by the window, Drew soon accompanying me, as I read through it all. It was a fantastic song about a summer love, and I found it really sweet. It was something that I found myself longing for, but I tried not to dwell on that fact.

    "I wrote that song for my girlfriend when I was fourteen. It's not really good. I mean, comparing her hair to yellow sunshine? Fucking stupid." He said with a laugh, and yeah, the lyrics were a bit funky, but the musical notes held a steady tune. It made up for the bad lyrics.

    "So, what about yours?" He asked after I was done palming my way through half of the journal. In all of his songs, I noticed lyrics that were a bit off, but I decided not to mention that. I was never one to truly criticize someone's work. Besides, he could think my lyrics suck as well.

    "Okay, um, promise not to make fun of it?" I asked, and he nodded, looking at the paper I held to my chest after setting his journal down. "I wrote it about finding myself. About finding who I truly am inside. About my... my sexuality and how hard it is to be around others." I confessed as I handed it to him nervously.

    His eyes glitted across the paper, taking in every note and word I wrote down. I held my breath, really wanting him to like them, but they could also be complete rubbish. He finally looked up at me, his eyes wide and his expression unreadable, making me tense and insecure.

    "I- I know they're not very good, but-" I began, but he instantly cut me off.

    "Are you kidding me? Liam, this is amazing!" He exclaimed, making me smile, so thankful that he liked it. "I mean, the lyrics are so honest and deep, the music keeps a steady pace and the build is genius! Not only that, but the fact that it's something important and close to you only makes it better." He said.

    "Wow. Really? Th-thank you." I said, looking down at the ground as a blush filled my cheeks. I know I just met Drew, but he's the only person that has been nice to me in so long. I think that we could grow close, but I had to wait and see if he'd stick around.

    "Do you have anymore that I could check out because this is some grammy nominated shit, Liam!" He smirked, making me laugh at the look on his face. "I'm serious! Do you?" He pressed, a look of pure enjoyment on his face as well.

    "Yeah. Let me just get them out of my binder." I said, watching as he nodded and looked back down at the song he already had in his hands, his eyes scanning over it again and again in amazement.

    I got up from the floor and went back over to my chair, picking up my bag and panicking when my binder wasn't underneath it. I looked under the chair and inside of the bag, just in case I forgot where I placed it, but it wasn't there. I was freaking out. All of those songs meant so much to me.

    "Looking for this princess?" I heard Zayn's familiar taunting tone. I turned to see him flicking through the binder, looking at every song, and I felt sick to my stomach. Those songs said things I never even spoke of, but maybe he wouldn't understand who I was referring to, or what I was referring to.

    "I gotta say, you sure do write a damn lot. How much free time do you have? Oh, right. Probably a lot considering the fact that nobody wants to be your friend." He said, faking a pout before sneering. "Except for that new kid, but he's probably a fag, too. You know, you two would be fucking perfect for each other. Both gay and unwanted."

    Each word stung, but all that metter right now was the fact that Zayn was holding all of my songs in his hand. He had control of them, and all I could do was ask for them back. Which is what I did.

    "Zayn... please just give them back." I said, holding my hand out for the binder, but Zayn just smirked with a raised eyebrow and a surprised look in his eyes.

    "Oh, so the princess does beg. That's interesting news." He chuckled, looking back down at the binder. He seemed to frown for a second before he just spoke again in a darker tone. "What so damn special about these songs anyway?"

   I watched as he grabbed one and ripped it. I wanted to scream but no sound came out of my mouth. I was too shocked and numb. I looked for the teacher, but she must have stepped out ages ago because she was nowhere to be seem.

   "They just tear so easily. My bad, hope you had a copy of that one." He said, and I was desperate to get them back now as I saw the glint in his eyes and him messing with another page.

    "Zayn, please! Just give them back. I'll do anything!" I begged, and he froze and looked up at me. I regretted the words, but I needed those songs back.

    "Anything? Even tell your little friend to fuck off?" He asked, and I felt so panicked. I just wanted my songs back, but Drew was my only friend and he just stuck up for me. I would be the worst if I did that.

   "N-no. Please. Anything else Zayn, I just-"

   "Too bad your songs don't realy mean shit to you." He said before ripping out a handful of them, and I felt like I was just stabbed in the heart repeatedly as he did it again and again and again until there was nothing left in the binder.

   He dropped it on the floor and I fell to my knees, trying to collect all of the scrapes of paper and find the matches to them. "No no no. Please. Why?" I cried, actually about to cry in class with everyone watching, but I held it in.

   "Better luck next time. See you around, princess." Zayn said before walking away as the bell rang. I jumped as I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I saw it was Drew. Everyone else was walking out of the room as he asked "Are you okay?"

   I wasn't. I really wasn't. Nothing in my life was okay except him and my mum, but I lied. "Yeah. Don't worry about Zayn. He's just an ass." I muttered, shoving all the torn papers into my binder before putting them in my bag and walking to the door and down the hall.

   "Wait, isn't it lunch time? Shouldn't we be going to the lunch room?" He asked, but I shrugged.

   "I don't. I never do. I eat behind the school alone. You can head there if you want to though." I said, not wanting to keep him from making friends that would be better than me.

   He smiled, and something felt off about the smile, but it was probably just from how upset I felt. "No, that's perfect. I'll eat with you." He said.

   "Really? Wow. Okay, um, this way." I said before turning and walking away. Maybe Zayn hated me, maybe my dad hated me, maybe the whole school hated me, but I had Drew to back me up. Maybe things would be alright.


	4. Betrayed

"Here we are." I announced as Drew followed me all the way to the back fence. The trees were all nice and pretty after cutting off all of the necessary branches, and I felt glad to be back here where I was safe- where no one could bother me. It was my own personal area, and maybe now I could share it with someone who won't make my life a living hell.

"So no one comes back here at all?" Drew asked as he followed behind me, both of us walking closer and closer to the fence. I loved leaning against it and just feeling the cool metal against the shirt on my back. It was almost calming, knowing that I may be stuck at a school full of hateful people, but that I won't be bothered by them when I was stalking around the edge of the cage we were trapped in. Like walking around the danger.

"Nope. Everyone else eats in the lunch room. I usually just sit and read. It's calming." I said, smiling as I felt a light gust of wind blow, loving the small raise of goosebumps on my arms. "The only time anyone came back here was yesterday when the workers were cutting the tree branches. Nobody will bother us." I finished, finally getting to the fence and turning as Drew said "Good."

It all happened so quickly, and I had no clue what even really happened. I just knew that Drew was pinning me harshly against the fence, a pain in my back from the harsh slam, the cool metal under my skin and shirt, a deep pain and the spill of blood from a loose piece of metal scraping my arm from the fence. I was so shocked as I looked at Drew, a smug and dangerous look on his face. "Wha-what-" I tried, but he interrupted me with a knee to my abdomen, making me attempt- and fail- to bend over in pain.

"You're really stupid, do you know that? Did you actually think that I was your friend? A little ugly, worthless, goodie two shoes fag like you? I hate even being near you, breathing the same air as you. You deserve a good ass kicking for just being alive." He growled, and it hurt. It hurt worse than Zayn's bullying ever did because I always knew where I stood with Zayn, but I thought Drew could possibly be my first friend.

"Wh-why?" I managed to gasp out as I got another knee to my stomach, knocking the air out of me. I felt breathless, but Drew seemed to like that if the sadistic smirk on his face was anything to go off of. The worse part was that he was kicking the exact same spots that my father beat me at last night. I felt like the cuts were opening up again, like blood was sliding down my skin, but I knew it wasn't. Yet.

"Why? Because you're a living fucking sin! It's disgusting. Pretending to be your friend was just to give myself a bit more kick out of it. It was worth it just to see the betrayed look on your helpless little face." He laughed, squeezing my face in his hand. "And that Zayn guy, he's good at scaring you, but you shouldn't worry about him. You should worry about me because I can make your life a living hell. You don't know what pain is yet, princess." He said, mocking Zayn's nickname, and I panicked.

I tried to break out of his hold and run, but he only laughed and slammed me back against the fence. "Where the fuck do you think you're going you little bitch?" He said before I felt hit fist make contact with my face, hitting me straight in the eye, and I knew it would bruise. I didn't have much time to tend to that pain though as he threw another punch to my jaw, making me hiss in pain, but not yell. I tried to never yell. It was one thing I wouldn't allow easily.

All I felt was kick after kick, punch after punch, push after push as he threw me around like I was a ragdoll. I tried my best to fight back, but I was so sore and weak from the continuous beatings I take every single day of my life. It was all so painful, but why wasn't I use to the pain? Or numb to it?

I groaned as Drew threw me on the ground. I knew my mouth was bleeding and I probably looked a mess. He threw one more kick to my side, making me wheeze for air, and then he was yanking on my hair, picking my head up so I looked him in the eyes. He chuckled and said "You didn't yell or cry, I'll give you that, but I'll break you. I'm going to ruin your life, make you regret ever fucking speaking to me." He said, and I wanted to say that he spoke to me first, but I held that in, knowing it wouldn't be smart to say right now.

"What do you say to another beating after school, huh?" He asked, and I whimpered at the thought, making him smile. "I'll take that as a yes. See you then. Unless you decide to end your life like you should." He said, dropping my head back and making me grit my teeth in pain as he left, leaving me in pain and bloodied up where no one could find me- not like anyone would look anyway.  
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Tear after tear fell from my eye as I cried in the last stall in the bathroom. It was third period, and I was suppose to be in class, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to walk through the door. I couldn't bring myself to face Zayn and have him torment me some more. I couldn't face the many stares I would get- people knowing what probably happened but ignoring it. I couldn't do it anymore. But I had to.

I cleaned myself off as I heard the bell ring, ending third period. I hated gym class anyway, but I couldn't skip study hall. It was the only place I could get my homework done at. I'd fail if I skipped it.

I wiped my eyes and looked in the mirror, seeing all the bruises forming on my face, my eye already blackening up. My eyes were bloodshot from crying for so long, and I hated every little thing about myself. I hated my hair, which always seemed to look messy and like crap, I hated my eyes which clearly displayed the deep sadness withing the brown orbs, I hated my smile because it was only another feature that people chose to hate and take away. I didn't need it anyway. I hated myself.

I lifted my shirt, seeing that even without eating much I haven't lost much weight. I still felt fat, and I absolutely hated my body. Zayn was probably lying when he said I had a nice build yesterday, another thing to tease me about. And besides, you could hardly even see my skin due to the discoloration the bruises caused. They littered my skin in several places. Tragic artwork, a broken canvas.

I finally lowered my shirt and walked out if the restroom, keeping my head down as I made my way to study hall. I walked into the room, keeping my head down all the way to my seat. I sat down and took out my history work, immediately starting on it, but I couldn't concentrate, too busy wondering why people hated me. What I did to deserve this pain. Why God hated me.

"Did the princess decide she couldn't run today or some shit?" I heard Zayn's voice as he sat down in front of me. I tensed up but kept my face down, not wanting him to see the bruises and begin to poke fun about it. About how he knew Drew wasn't my friend. How nobody would want to be my friend and how I should have known that.

"I'm fucking talking to you, little shit." I heard Zayn said, feeling his foot kick my knee, and I gritted my teeth in pain. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." He said, grabbing my face and lifting it up. I felt a tear spill from my eye as he got a good look at my face, the huge black eye forming, the bruise on my jaw, the cut on my lip. I looked like shit- well, more than I usually did.

"Funny, huh?" I asked, my voice sounding shaky because I just wanted to break down in tears. I hated admitting that he was right. "You're right, Zayn. Nobody wants to be my friend." I said, letting out a shaky laugh, but I didn't get the reaction I thought I would get from him. He didn't poke fun at me, in fact, he looked shocked and then angry.

I gave a small yelp as he pulled me out of my chair, feeling the pain and soreness spread throughout my body at the sudden jerk. I panicked as he pulled me out of the classroom, the teacher asking where we were going, but Zayn ignored her and kept walking, tugging me along with him. I really didn't want to get into more trouble, but Zayn's hold was too strong.

We made it to the closest bathroom we found, Zayn making sure it was empty before closing the door and locking it, pining me against the wall as I whimpered, the pain in my back a nice remembrance of the beating I took against the fence. "Who did this to you?" He asked, speaking in a threatening tone of voice. It confused me, but I answered him when he squeezed my shoulders so tightly it hurt.

"Ah, Drew! Zayn, stop!" I pleaded, wanting all of the pain to stop. I wanted to disappear until all of the pain faded away as well. I was completely miserable, and I had no idea how many more beatings I could take.

He let go of my arm and threw a punch at the wall, making me flinch at how close it was to me. "Where is he?" He growled out, and I was beyond confused but still so frightened of Zayn. I didn't particularly want another beating from Drew, but why would Zayn care?

"I don't know! We don't have anymore classes together." I said, watchin as Zayn pushed himself away from me, allowing me to sink down on the floor and lay my head in my lap. I was so tired. So tired of everything, and I wanted to just go home- where my mum would hopefully be- and lay down, sleep off the pain.

"You're such a fucking idiot, Liam. Why would you trust him in the first place? Because he's new and nice to you? News flash- nobody's ever nice for no reason! They always want something or have a motive. God, you're such an idiot!" He said, and I got angry now as well.

"Why do you even care? You only beat me, just like he does. So what's the fucking difference? You should be glad that you have someone else that hates me just as much as you do! Now the dirty work can be split in two. Double the trouble, double the pain. C'mon! Just fucking hit me like you always do and stop acting like you give a crap about me!" I said, standing up again and pushing Zayn a bit.

His eyes darkened, nothing but a glare there. Pure hatred. And then I felt more pain in my back as he pushed me against the wall again, pinning my arms up as well. He looked me in the eyes before growling at me. "I don't give a shit about you, but I do give a shit about my reputation. This is my school, and it's my job and my job only to make you realize how useless you are. You are my property. Mine to torture. Not his. So be a good little princess and shut your fucking mouth. It's not about you. It's about me. My dominance." He said, and I closed my mouth, shrinking back into the wall, feeling the full wrath of Zayn's anger.

"But maybe you like the attention and the pain. Hmm? Tell me, princess, do you have a pain kink?" He asked, his eyes not as dark anymore, but sinister smirk filled his lips as he nuzzled his nose into my neck.

"Like it when it hurts?" He asked, his voice deep and sexy, danger evident in it. I tried to fight back as his hold on my arms tightened again, slight pain shooting through my arm. "You probably do. Probably think that Drew guy is hot, too, don't you? Does the princess have a little crush? Want him to bend you over and fuck you?" He growled, becoming angry again as he spat the words, and I was so confused about everything.

Zayn wasn't making any sense. One minute he was acting concerned about me, then he was saying he only cared about being the only one to cause me pain, and now he was angry because... because why? Why was he angry?

"Too bad. Because you're mine, princess. Mine to bruise and mark. So why don't you tell me... when will you see Drew again?" He whispered, and I shivered as I felt his lips brush against the skin of my neck. Why was I letting Zayn affect me this way? He was pure evil, and I just wanted to push him away.

"He... he said after school. He'll teach me another lesson after school." I said, whimpering a bit as I felt Zayn bite at my neck, right over my sweet spot. Whimpering was all I could do to hold in my moan. I couldn't let Zayn see how I was responding. I just wanted him to leave already and let me go back to class.

"The hell he will." He seethed. "I'm the only one who gets to cause you pain. You're my punching bag, okay? And I'm going to make sure he knows that." He said, pushing me more against the wall before pushing away from me.

Everything hurt, and I was both in pain and completely confused. What the hell was even going on? Was Zayn saying he was going to deal with Drew- get him off my back? Of course, it'd only be for his purpose, but it still meant something, right?

"You're okay, right, princess?" Zayn suddenly asked, bending down so he was eye level with me. I looked away but he only chuckled. "Of course you are."

He grabbed my face, lifting it up and looking at my bruises and cuts from Drew. He shook his head and said "The kid needs better hits. This is nothing you can't handle. Pretty sure I've given you worse." It was true. Zayn even dislocated my shoulder once, and I had to pop it back myself since going to the doctor would be a big no-no and result in another beating from my dad.

Still, Zayn's beatings weren't the worst. My father held that crown. Leaving me bloody with sharp, yet numbing pain all over my body. His beatings knocked me out at times, making him wait until I woke up to continue the abuse he was so thrilled to give. It was ruthless, merciless, and completely horrible.

"Now, we're going to go back to class, and you will use the same excuse I do if you don't want to get in trouble." He said, and I nodded. It was all I could do.

Zayn pulled me up, and I held in my whine of pain at the sudden jerk. The bruises from my dad haven't even completely healed yet. It was all still there, hidden underneath clothing and other bruises. Of course Zayn wouldn't know about it- not when they seemed to target the same places. It was almost scary how their bruises were sometimes layered over one anothers- as if they made a deal to share in my torment.

I followed behind Zayn, walking all the way to the classroom. As soon as we reached the door, Zayn stopped me and lifted my arm over his shoulder. "Lean on me." He spat out orders. "Make it look believeable."

I did as he said, putting a fraction of my weight on Zayn, ignoring the way his arm wrapped around my waist, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt, slightly brushing underneath it as he pushed the classroom door open.

The teacher automatically turned to us, gasping as she saw me in my state. "Liam! What happened?" She asked, rushing over to me as all of the class lifted their heads to see what was going on. I saw many of them smirk, probably understanding that I was beaten up. I hated their cruel, cold hearts. Despised it all.

"A kid hit him pretty badly. We left because I wanted to help tend to his wounds. Sorry we didn't ask first, but he was damaged pretty badly." Zayn said, taking on the respectful, kind-hearted tone that he always used with teachers. I wanted to laugh at him, but I didn't want to caus us both getting caught in a lie- it would only result in more problems for me.

"Oh, it's perfectly fine, Zayn. Thank you for supporting him." She said before looking at me. "Are you okay, Liam? Do you want to go to the nurse? Or have me call your parents?" She asked, and my eyes widened.

"No!" I exclaimed, catching Zayn's curious look he sent me at my sudden panic. I took a deep breath and then said "I- I mean, they're both busy with work. I'll be f-fine. Zayn already was a big help." I lied smoothly, my clean record and innocent look providing the perfect disguise.

"If you're sure. You don't have to work. Just rest your head." She said, and I nodded as Zayn and I walked past her, him leading me to my seat. I sat down and Zayn whispered "Nice playing, princess. See you after school. Make sure Drew shows."

I gulped at that but nodded, feeling confused and lost as Zayn left to sit in his seat. Was my bully going to become a sort of protector for me? I didn't know, but all I did know was that friendship was something I would never try to achieve again. Why did letting people in always lead to me getting hurt?


	5. Dominance

I was terrified to go anywhere after school. I didn't want to walk out of the building, I didn't want to face Drew, but I also didn't want Zayn to face Drew. It's not that I was scared for him because Zayn could handle himself, and I have no doubt he could win that fight.

I took a deep breath, keeping my head down as I exited the school building, trying to walk as quickly as possible outside of the school perimeter, but I was cut short too quickly by a hand gripping my shoulder. I froze as Drew spoke up. "Where are you running off to?" He asked, and turned me around, pushing me back. People saw what was going on, and a small crowd already began to gather.

I stumbled over my feet as he threw me back harshly, causing me to land on my bum, some people laughing at the situation I was in. "I said you'd get round two after school, didn't I? Why would you try to run from that? I thought we were friends, Liam." He taunted with a wicked smile spread across his lips.

I looked up at Drew in fear before looking around, hoping- for some odd reason- that Zayn would pop up and save the day. I almost wanted to laugh at the thought because there was no way Zayn was a savior. He was the reason I hated school in the first place- the reason everyone else saw me as an outcast and as nothing more than his personal punching bag. If anything, Zayn showing up would only be worse.

"Aww, don't look so scared, Liam. It'll only hurt a lot." He said with a cruel smile, and I braced myself for a punch as he grabbed my shirt, pulling his arm back. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the pain and the crowd's collective cheers of oohs and ohs. But it never came.

Instead, I felt Drew being ripped away from me, opening my eyes in shock as I saw Zayn pushing him against the wall of the school building, everyone else looking on in pure interest. In any other situation, I would be flattered- thankful- but they were only enemies because they both thought they owned me. They thought they owned the rights to make my life a living hell. They weren't the holders of that crown though.

"You have a lot of nerve to lay a finger on my property." Zayn sneered, literallt growling in Drew's face. I saw Drew's eyes show fear for a split second before they flashed with nothing but challenge. "It's my job to make him suffer, my job to cause him pain, and no little fucking prick that barely moved here is going to take that satisfaction away from me. You have to work your way up the damn social ladder like every other lowlife." He said.

"It's really cute what you've got going on here, Zayn." Drew said, smiling smugly eventhough he was in no position to be looking so comfortable. "Pretending to hate Liam, acting like you despise who he is- his very existence, when really, you probably fuck him behind closed doors." He said, and finally the collective gasp came from the crowd as Zayn punched Drew straight in the face, pure rage on his face. His teeth were gritted, eyes wild and ablaze, and he looked as if he was seeing nothing but red. It was probably the angriest I have ever seen Zayn look before. 

He slammed Drew against the wall, making him arch in pain, as he snapped at him. "Don't you even dare talk shit about me! I don't want to hear a goddamn word out of your mouth. I don't give a shit what you think- but understand this. I will never like a fag like Liam, but he is my property. Mine to torment, and I will ruin anyone, anyone, who stands in the way of that. I don't give a fuck where you came from or how big you think you are- you're nothing here. Nothing at all. This is my school, so be careful what you do. And watch your fucking mouth!" He said, pushing him against the wall again before he turned, walking towards me.

"Well let's just see about that then. Huh, Malik? Let's see who Liam's more afraid of." He said with a wicked smirk, walking towards us and stopping a few feet away from us. "C'mon, Liam. I want you to stand up and come over here or you can look forward to a beating first thing tomorrow morning!" Drew yelled, and I looked between them both, terrified and not knowing what to do.

I made my way up to move, about to get off of the floor, but the anger in Zayn's voice made me freeze. "If you even move a muscle I will bash your fucking head into the wall." He said, not having to yell to sound dark and menacing. My whole body froze, even my blood, and I stayed put, shaking as Zayn stepped closer to me.

Drew looked pissed, giving it another try. "Now, Liam!" He ordered, but even thinking of Zayn's presence made me stay, looking down in shame and defeat because of how terrified I was of the boy with jet black hair and smouldering eyes. It was shaming how much control he had over me- how much power.

"You lose." Zayn said, sounding satisfied, and I tensed up as I felt his hand on my shoulder. Drew yelled in rage before he turned and stomped away, pushing through the crowd of people there. Zayn laughed at his anger, before turning serious again.

"Everyone leave." He said, scowling at the crowd that quickly dispersed, people tripping over each other to follow Zayn's order. I think he loved the power he had, and everyone knew not to cross his path. Drew just showed what would happen if you even tried, and I knew Zayn wouldn't leave it there. There had to be more to it.

He walked in front of me before bending down so he was at eye level. He pulled my head up by my hair to look him in the eyes, and I whimpered at the pain and the overly sweet smile on his face. It was so fake and held so much hatred behind it.

"Good job, princess. At least you know you're mine."  
\------------------------------------------------------

I didn't want to go home today. Not like I ever did, but I wasn't looking forward to more shame, bruises, cuts. I wasn't looking forward to looking into the eyes of yet another person that hated me. If I wanted that I could just look in a mirror. Still, I walked all the way there, holding in my tears at the events of today.

I opened the front door and hesitantly walked inside, listening intently for any sound of my father already home. I made my way through the living room and the kitchen without hearing a sound, but then I froze as the front door was opened and shut, hearing brisk walking through the living room.

I peeked around the corner and gave a sigh of relief as I saw my mum rummaging through the cabinets below the television. "Where did I leave it?" She asked herself, not even realizing I was there yet, and I wanted to keep it that way. She didn't need to see all of my bruises and cuts. She didn't have to know that everyone hated me. She didn't have to feel guilty for not knowing. She didn't need to know anything.

I hid behind the wall before I heard her footsteps approaching. I moved to hide in the closet where cans of food were, but stopped as I heard her say "Ah, there it is." She picked something up before retracing her steps and opening the front door, shutting it again. I sighed in relief before getting out of my hiding spot and going up to my room.

I threw my bag onto the floor before sitting on my bed, not knowing what go do. The person I thought was my friend ended up despising me, and I had to actually trust my bully to protect me from him. Either way I would get hurt by someone. No matter what, my dad would still continue his abuse as well. It was all relentless.

I laid back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling and trying to ignore the deepest, darkest thoughts that always crept around the corners of my mind. Because it's not like I haven't thought of ways to end this all, ways to eliminate the pain I felt from everyone else. I just never acted on anything, but oh how I wanted to.

I looked over at my restroom, knowing it would be so easy without either of my parents home. And it's not like my dad would stop it even if he was here. It could be pills, or razors, or even hanging. Anything to feel numb. Before I could even get off of the bed though, there was a knock on the front door, snapping me away from my thoughts.

I sighed before walking out of my room and to the front door. I looked through the peep hole, seeing Zayn standing there, and my heart began to beat faster as fear and panic filled me up inside. Why was he here? How did he even know where I lived?

"Liam, I know your home, and if you know what's good for you then you'd open the damn door." He called out, and I closed my eyes before slowly opening the door for him. He pushed his way in before I even opened it all the way, and I was pissed.

"You can't just barge into my home like that, Zayn!" I said, looking at the door that swung wife open from my grasp. He only stepped closer and smirked.

"And you're gonna stop me?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. I shut my mouth and just closed the front door, knowing that Zayn was watching me in triumph the whole time.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not looking up at him, but he seemed to enjoy the fact that I was terrified of him, ashamed to be seen by him. "You really shouldn't be here, you know." I said, thinking about the things my dad would say if he came home right now to find me home alone with a guy- eventhough nothing was going on.

"I'm here because we have some business to take care of, and don't you dare tell me where I can and can't be. That's more my job, Liam. Now, sit down." He ordered, a fierce look in his eyes, and I listened to his orders, feeling like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I sat on my couch, not looking up at him at all. To be honest, the living room felt so foreign to me. I spent most of my time in my room, avoiding my dad or doing my best to cover up scars and bruises in my restroom. I don't remember the last time I even sat on the couch without my dad yelling at me and pulling me from it only to lead to a beating- of course my mum was never home. He never does it when she's around. He only gives me that look that says he'll get me later.

"Good. Now, about this Drew guy," He began, "I want you nowhere near him."

"Don't have to tell me twice." I breathed out, and he smirked at me. I hated the fact that the only word that went through my mind at that smirk was 'beautiful'.

"Having said that, you will be anywhere I tell you to be at any time. You will not eat by the gate of the school, you will eat in the lunch room where I can keep an eye on what's going on."

"But I-" I began, but Zayn cut me off by giving me a sharp, pointed look. I shrunk into myself and nodded at his words. I didn't want anymore beatings. Not when I already knew I might have one waiting anyway.

"You will sit next to me in music class. And if I'm ever not around, I'll have Louis keep an eye on you. Is that all good?" He asked, meeting me at my eye level, and I had no clue it was possible to be even more intimidated by Zayn but I was.

I nodded and he smirked again, loving his victories. "Great. Don't disappoint me, princess." He teased, and I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew that would only lead to him getting upset. "Now, why don't you show me around?" He asked, and my eyes widened as he began to walk away and down the hall.

"Zayn, no. You have to leave." I said, following along beside him, but I was quieted as he turned to me, quickly pinning me against the wall and glaring at me.

"Care to repeat that?" he threatened, and I shook my head, closing my eyes and bracing myself for pain of any kind. I was thankful, however, when he only pushed my face away and continued down the hall. "Which one's your room?"

I sighed before pointing to the door that led to my room. He walked down the hall and opened up the door, disappearing inside. I quickly followed, walking in to see him looking at a picture of me and my mum when I was little. My mum was holding me proudly, smiling down at me. It was one of the things that probably kept my going. I absolutely loved my mum and was so thankful for her.

"It's a shame that someone could love you." He said, shaking his head, and that hurt more than anything. That was a straight hit to my heart, stinging me worse than ang hits he could possibly through because I knew he was right. How could someone love me when everyone else hates me? How can someone see something good when everyone else sees the truth? I'm not a good person, I get beat and bullied, and I never even stand up for myself. What was a mother to possibly be proud of?

I watched as Zayn walked over to the stack of CDs on my nightstand, looking through all of them and sighing. "I guess I can't pick on all of your music taste, but some of its crap. Like this," He said, tossing out a CD to the floor, making the cover bust a bit. "And this one. And this one." He continued, a sadistic smirk overtaking his face as he continued on, leaving one CD on the stand only. "That's better." He sighed in false satisfaction before walking over to the window, looking out of it.

I finally moved from my spot bt the door and crouched down to pick up all of my CDs off of the ground, wanting to tear up as I remembered feeling so happy my mum gave them to me. Music was the one thing that made me feel like I was able to freely express myself. 

I opened up every single CD, checking the disk inside to make sure it was fine, and my heart broke as I found several of them cracked in half from how harshly Zayn threw them. I didn't have time to be upset though because Zayn picked me up by my wrist before throwing me on the bed. "Stop crying over fucking CDs." He spat out, and my eyes grew wide as he climbed on top of me, holding himself up and hovering over me.

It was silent as we stayed in that position, and I felt such shame as I began to admire every little feature on Zayn's face. From his eye color to his eyelashes, his perfectly tan skin to the stark contrast of his jet black hair, from the bridge of his nose to his pink, heart-shaped lips. And how the hell could someone so evil be so beautiful?

"Why so speechless, princess?" He said in a dark voice, and it was all I could do not to shiver at the sound. "Bet you always picture us this way. Bet you're just aching to kiss me, aren't you?" He framed. And as soon as I words came out, I noticed that I was still staring at his lips. I tore my eyes away, not knowing where to look, so I settled for closing my eyes.

Silence overtook us again, but only for a minute or so. I completely froze as I felt him leaned forward, feeling his lips on my neck, only lightly touching the skin. "Bet you just want me to mark you. You'd probably moan like a little bitch." He said, and I felt his lips spread to a smirk against my skin.

"Zayn, can you please go?" I begged, wanting him gone already. This was all too much, and I was so confused with my thoughts.

"Why? Are you intimidated, princess? Afraid?" He pressed, and I nodded slightly, opening my eyes again as he pulled back. I saw some type of an emotion in his eyes, but it was gone too soon for me to decipher, replaced by a gleaming look of victory again. Zayn 1000- Liam 0.

My whole body relaxed as he got off of me, standing upright as he said "Well, I'm gonna go now. We'll see each other soon, though. Remember my rules, Liam." He made sure to remind, and I nodded as I sat up, wanting him gone already.

"I'll visit again soon, but next time you better let me in without acting all afraid and trying to tell me what I can and can't do." He ordered, and I nodded again, wanting him gone already.

He walked over to my bedroom door, throwing me a wink before saying "Later, princess."

I heard his footsteps disappear down the hall before heading the front door open and close. I sighed as he left and fell back onto my bed, only that didn't help me feel better. Visions of Zayn hovering over me filled my mind for the first time ever, and I panicked, sitting up and knowing that even laying down and staring at the ceiling was ruined for me.

I sighed again before deciding to just grab my backpack and start my homework, trying to look on the bright side. At least my dad never walked in on us. At least he left my favorite CD alone. At least he didn't insult my mum in the picture.

At least I didn't kiss him.


	6. Surrender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how short this one is. Might double post because of the length.

I dreaded going to school today more than ever before. I would no longer have the smallest bit of freedom due to Drew coming in and fucking everything up. I would have to listen to Zayn's rules. I would have to do as he said, and there was no way out because the teachers wouldn't believe it, my mum shouldn't have to worry about it, and my dad wouldn't give a care. 

I was walking to first period, knowing that the torment would start as soon as I sat in front of Zayn. Still, there was no way to avoid it. It was all that was plaguing my mind.

I walked into my first period class, seeing Zayn already sitting in his seat. He gave a smirk as soon as he saw me, and I looked down as I made my way down the aisle and took my seat infront of him. 

"Good morning, princess." He said, teasing my situation already. "It's very rude not to reply, don't you think?" He pressed, poking me in the back.

"Good morning, Zayn." I grumbled out, knowing he was displaying his stupid smirk without even needing to turn around. He was just so frustrating.

"Good. Now," He said, grabbing me by my hair and pulling my head back so he could speak into my ear. "I need you near me at all times. If you see, or hear, Drew, you find me as soon as possible. And don't get this confused, Liam. I'm not doing this to help you, I'm doing this because making your life hell is the highlight of my day. Nobody will take that away from me." He said. "Got that?" I nodded, sighing as he let go of me.

That's how all of class went, dealing with Zayn as he did little things to mess with me-- just like any of day-- and I was already losing my sanity. I never had a chance to get away from him because he always walked me to my classes, joking about how I probablg imagined him doing this everyday while holding my hand and being my boyfriend.

It wasn't until lunch time that I got a break.

I walked to my locker to put some of my books away, and just as I was pulling my hand out of the locker, it was slammed shut beside me. "Hey! You could have broke my fingers!" I snapped, looking up to see Louis smirking beside me.

"Well, at least you have two hands. Now, come on. Zayn had to stay in his class a while longer, and I have to fucking babysit you." He huffed before turning to walk towards the cafeteria, knowing I would have to follow.

"Asshole." I muttered before walking along behind him.

We made it all the way to the cafeteria, and I was standing in the lunch line when I saw him. Drew.

He was looking directly at me, an angry look in his eyes, and I quickly diverted my gaze. I didn't want to cause any trouble, but I had a feeling that was too late to avoid now.

I panicked as Louis got his lunch and walked to his table, making me rush after him and almost trip and spill everything on his back. I was thankful when I didn't, until I was pushed into him, the contents of my tray spilling on him and the floor. People's eyes were suddenly on us with interest, and I gulped as Louis set his tray down and turned around with an angry look.

"What the fuck?" He growled, but he wasn't looking at me. I turned around, seeing Drew standing there with a smirk.

"What happened? Did you spill a little, Liam?" He asked, making Louis glare at me for a second before turning his attention back to Drew.

"Listen, you might think you're clever and big and bad, but you don't know shit. Wanna know how it works in this school? You start at the bottom, but you never make your way to the top." Louis said.

"Oh, but I think I'm doing a hell of a job at the bottom of the fucking social ladder, don't you think?" Drew asked, making Louis smirk.

"Of course you are. All you probably know how to do is take it up the ass." He commented, making my mouth open in shock.

Drew began to walked towards him. "Don't fucking make comments like that unless you want to get hit."

"What? You think I'm scared of you? You're nothing but a wanna-be." He said, and I closed my eyes, afraid to see some fists start to fly, and they might've, but then a voice came over all of us, that voice that chilled my body to the core.

"What the hell is going on here?" Zayn asked cooly. "Louis?"

"This fucker pushed the fag and made him drop shit all over me. Thinks he has a change at running things here." He said, making me flinch at his choice of words.

"What? You think you're the only people who can manipulate to get what they want?" Drew asked, trying to stay in control of things.

"We don't have to manipulate people, they just do as we say." Zayn began, moving Louis aside and standing in front of Drew instead. "Just like you're about to. So turn around, like a good dog with your tail between your legs, and walk away." He ordered, every word making me ready to do as he said if he were talking to me. God I was pathetic.

Drew stood in anger, hands balling up at his sides, and Zayn smiled that stunning smile that I hated so much.

"Are you gonna hit me?" He teased. "Go ahead. Give me a reason to beat the living shit out of you." He offered up his cheek. "Go on. Get your one hit in before you get your ass beat."

Tension built up as Drew stayed still, several people watching in agony of what might happen. Finally, Drew huffed and turned, walking away to Zayn's satisfaction.

Louis shrugged off his jacket, setting it down before he sat down at the table as well. Zayn turned to me, his stare making me frozen, but I was glad people were looking away now- the main action already over and down with.

"Follow me. Now." He said, and I nodded, setting my messy tray down before quickly running after him, fearing the consequence of disobeying.

We made it to the boy's restroom and he turned to me. "I told you to come get me as soon as you saw him. Why the hell did you not listen to me?" He asked, eyes cold as stones ablazed with fire.

"I- I forgot." I stuttered. "It all happened so fast, and then Louis was about to fight, and I just wanted to leave, and... and-" I cut myself off as Zayn stepped closer to me, his hands on either side of me as I was trapped against the wall.

"And what if he hit you instead?" He asked, the thought making me gulp.

"I- I don't know." I admitted. I'd just be in a lot of pain, I guess.

"It would hurt, right?" Zayn suggested, and I nodded faintly. "But I could make you feel worse pain." He said, though his actions contradicted his words, his nose nuzzling my neck and my mind went all cloudy again as I felt his lips gently against my skin, smooth and soft.

"Do not disobey me again. Got that?" He asked, backing up to look me in the eyes, and I nodded, thankful for no new bruises.

"Good. Because I expect the best from you, princess." He smirked before turning and walking out, knowing I had to follow.


	7. Bare

It was getting late, and I was surprised my dad wasn't home yet, though he was probably out somewhere getting drunk. My mum, on the other hand, called me to let me know she would be working late. I was alone for the first time in a long time, and I didn't know if I liked it or not.

I liked the peace and quiet, but not the voices in my head. All of the negatives seemed to consume everything else, but I tried my best to ignore it all and work on homework instead. The only problem was, I couldn't concentrate on the work. It all seemed to be a big blur, just like the days were.

Every single day was the same cycle on repeat. It got tiring to live through. I woke up, tried to sneak out before my dad saw me, met up with bullies at school who hated me for being myself, went through every class -- trying to keep up but slowly slipping no matter how smart I am, and then I came home to an abusive father and an overworked mum. It was a cycle of pain, torture, and disappointment.

I didn't have anyone to lean on. I wish I did. I wish I had one person I could tell all of my thoughts to. The useless fairytale thoughts I came up with. They were laughable and foolish, but they meant everything to me. Because there was always a happy ending. That was the one thing I craved more than anything. A happy ending. But life didn't work that way, did it?

I sighed, giving up on only the third problem of my math sheet. Math was never my strongest subject, but that didn't mean I despised it. Sometimes the formulas and numbers just got to be too much.

I set my book aside as there was a knock on the door. I didn't know what to expect because I was sure my dad's knock would be much harsher and my mum wouldn't be off of work for a few hours. I'd be lucky if I got to sleep before either of them came home, especially the former.

The person knocked again as I was making my way through the living room, so I jogged the rest of the way to the door, opening it up to see Zayn standing there. I didn't even invite him in, he walked in, just like the first time. I learned not to really try to push him out. There was no use in it.

"What are you doing here?" I asked with a small sigh. I was tired and irritated already, plus I was hoping I could spend the rest of the day alone. I was hoping I could play some music, lose myself in anything and everything possible. I just needed that, but Zayn needed to ruin that.

"I said I'd be back, didn't I? And it's a good thing you let me in without being afraid, but cut the damn attitude, yeah?" He said. It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order, and it made me sigh as I closed the door.

"You can't be here long. I have no idea what time my dad's coming home." I said, hoping he'd understand, but he only laughed.

"I'll stay as long as I want. First we have to talk about a few things." He walked down the hall, probably remembering where my room is. I gave a worried look at the front door, freaking out inside at the risk of having him here. My dad would kill me if he saw a boy here while I was alone- especially if he was in my room.

"C-can't we talk in here?" I stuttered out, Zayn looking back at me with a death glare. True, I was more afraid of my father, but my father wasn't here right now. Zayn was here, and I was terrified of Zayn.

I gave in, walking over to where he stood and then following behind him to my bedroom. He threw the door open and then plopped down on my bed, motioning for me to sit as well. I sat higher up on the bed, not wanting to sit right next to him, and he smirked when he noticed.

"What's wrong? I don't have a disease, you know." He said, and I sat quietly, looking away from him. No, but you have a temper.

I heard him groan before I felt him grab my leg and pull me closer to him. I froze as I looked up to see our faces inches apart. I felt ashamed at how lovely I found his scent, his cologne not being overly strong like most guys have. It mixed in with the smell of leather from his jacket and the smell of his natural scent.

"Why so afraid?" He whispered, and I tried to look him in the eyes, head spinning a bit as I saw him looking towards my lips. I knew the cut was still there from the altercation with Drew, and I also knew the bruises were still very prominent all over my body. Not just from Drew, though.

"What, um, what did we need to talk about?" I asked quietly, not wanting his body warmth to leave but not wanting it to stay as well. It was such a conflicting emotion.

"How you should listen to me better." He said, his eyes finally looking up to meet my own. "I gave you specific rules to follow, yet you didn't listen. Why?" He asked, and I didn't know how to reply.

"I told you. It just all seemed to happen so fast. Drew was there, then Louis got mad, they were arguing, and then you showed up." I defended. "I wasn't thinking about anything else."

"No, you were only thinking about standing there as they argued. So tell me, do you like standing in the middle of danger? Does danger attract you?" He asked, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "Does danger turn you on?" He asked, and I had to refrain from shuddering at his words that were clearly effective.

"N-no." I stuttered out, mentally cursing myself out because of it. "No. Which is why you need to leave." I said, thinking of my dad again as I pushed Zayn back a bit.

He threw his head back in laughter and asked "Do you think you're in control here, princess? Because you're not. I'm the boss. I say what goes and you follow it. That's how this works."

He stood up from my bed, looking around my room some more, and I gulped, knowing he'd find something to destroy like he did last time.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped as I jumped up in panic as I heard a car door slam shut outside. My heart raced as I ran to the window, peeking through to see my dad struggling with his jacket that got caught in the car door. He was cleadly drunk, stumbling a bit as he tried to free it.

"Zayn, you have to leave now." I said, rushing to open the window but Zayn slammed it down, making me yelp and retreat my hands.

"I'm not leaving until I'm ready." He said, and I dreaded the whole authority act more than ever right now.

"No, you will leave now!" I said, then froze as the front door opened and slammed shut.

"Liam, where the fuck are you!?" My dad yelled in a slur. Zayn seemed surprised at the outburst, and I was close to hyperventilating. This couldn't be happening.

"Zayn, please. Please. I have never asked you for anything like this, and I will never ask for anything again. I'll follow your rules. Just... please hide." I begged, knowing there wasn't enough time for him to climb out of the window because I heard my dad's footsteps right outside my door.

Zayn stared at me, reading my eyes, and then he sighed, walking over and getting into the closet before shutting it just as my dad threw open my bedroom door.

"Where's your mum?" My dad asked, and I hated how badly I stuttered out a reply.

"S-s-she's wor-working late tonight." I managed, terrified at the fact that Zayn was still in the house.

"That fucking woman is always working." He complained, and I mumbled under my breath. "What the hell did you just say?" He demanded, making me shake my head in fear. "C'mon. Say it."

"She... She has t-to pay bills." I said, knowing it would anger my father. I think deep down he knew he was the reason for most of our money struggles. He spent most of what he earned on alcohol. My mum was left to pick up the slack.

"I'm the one who pays the fucking bills." He snarled, stepping closer to me. "Don't you ever disrespect me and my authority in this house. You're lucky I want to watch the game tonight otherwise it would have been the basement for you." He said. "Don't fucking test me, Liam."

With that, he turned around and walked out of my room, slamming the door as he went. I waited until I heard his footsteps completely disappear before shakily walking over to the closet and opening the door, immediately retreating to my bed, not wanting to look Zayn in the face after everything he most likely just heard. Now he knew. Nobody was suppose to know.

"Is he always like that?" I heard him ask. I couldn't tell what he was thinking or what he was feeling. He was probably enjoying the fact that someone caused me pain at home as well, that way it was an even split. He probably thought I deserved it. Hell, I think I deserve it at times.

"Can you please leave?" I whispered, feeling the tears building up in my eyes, and I really did not want to cry infront of him. He's seen enough of my weak side and has broken me down a lot but this completely crossed the line. He knew one of my darkest secrets, and there was no telling how he'd use it against me.

The room was silent, and I felt like a science experiment, Zayn's eyes trying to take in and analyze everything that just happened.

"Lift up your shirt." He ordered, and I looked up at him in shock. Why did he have to request that? I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't. That would truly expose everything, and if my father found out....

"What? No. Leave my house." I said back, feeling terrified and defensive right now.

"Lift up your shirt, Liam. Now." He demanded, walking closer to me.

"Why? Huh?" I lashed out now, my final defense. "So you can admire the wonderful bruises you and Drew left behind!? So you can feel that sense of pride? Why do you need it? You already know what's there."

"I'm not looking to admire my work. I haven't left a bruise recently and neither has Drew. Show me." He said, standing right in front of me now. "Either you lift it up or I will."

He was looking me in the eyes, and I knew he meant it. There was no joking in his tone. I knew Zayn was stronger and my struggling would only make my dad curious enough to come back into the room. I only had one option.

A tear slid down my face as I nodded, knowing my worst enemy was about to see it all. I never wanted to divulge this secret. It was terrifying to do, but Zayn would make me one way or another -- that was inevitable.

I lifted my shirt up in shame, knowing mg whole chest and stomach was full of bruises, burns, lash marks. I remembered all of the blood that trickled down my body because of my dad. All of the pain I felt, how I passed out, how he didn't stop until I passed out. I was scared that one day he'd go to far, ending it all for me. Should I fear that or welcome it?

I didn't look at Zayn. I didn't want to see his judgmental eyes. I didn't want to see him smiling in delight at the various cuts and bruises on me. I knew he was probably satisfied that my life was hell all around.

"Liam...." He trailed off, a tone in his voice that I couldn't identify. "How often?" He asked. He just had to make this harder.

"Almost every day." I whispered, more tears pouring from my eyes.

I shivered as Zayn's fingertips lightly touched my chest, trailing along a welt from the lashings. "Why didn't you say anything?" He asked, and I gave out a humorless laugh.

"It wouldn't matter. He threatened my life. And now you know. And I know you're glad I get hell all around." I said.

"You're my property, princess." He said, sounding angry, but there was something else in the mocking tone he usually used with the nickname. There was a context behind the petname that I couldn't define. "Why not tell your mum?"

"I couldn't tell me mum. She's working a lot, sure. I don't want her to see me constantly bruised and beaten. She doesn't know about any of it. The school bullying or the home abuse. I don't want her to. She loves him." I said.

"But she probably loves you more." He said, making me scoff.

"Or not. You said it yourself. It's a shame someone could love me. Because nobody could. Nobody does. People put up with me, use me, or hurt me. And that's okay. That's my life." I cried.

"Princess, I-"

"Can we just... move on. Don't act like you care and don't act like this changes anything. We're still the same people. I'm the social outcast and you're the popular, takes-no-shit-from-anybody bully. And I have another guy who wants to kick my ass but you want to maintain me as your punching bag. That's it. And I'm fine with that. Well, not fine but... yeah." I said awkwardly, looking down at my hands.

"It doesn't change anything. You're still a useless fag." He said, but the same strength wasn't behind his voice. It was strange. Did Zayn know how to feel for other people?

"And you're still the same apathetic jackass." I mumbled, hearing him chuckle. I finally looked up at him, seeing a smirk upon his lips but an irregular emotion held in his eyes. I didn't know what it was. Maybe pity. But I hated it if that was correct.

"See you tomorrow, princess. And don't forget the rules." He said, opening up my window and climbing out if it like a pro. It made me question the juvenile things Zayn might have done.

I closed the window behind him, letting out a deep breath. I looked back at my bedroom door, hearing the sound of my dad cursing before slamming something down. I jumped at the sudden noise.

I made my way over to my bed, laying down under the covers and curling up. A tear or two fell out, all of the pain inside of me being too much to handle. I didn't want to cry. So, I closed my eyes, trying to ignore everything, and, somewhere in the cloud of pain, I drifted off to sleep.


	8. Disguise

I felt like a shell of someone I once was as I walked to school the next day. The only problem was that I had no remembrance of who I once was. I don't remember what it felt like to be truly happy because I've gone through hell most of my life. I learned to block out 'happy' because I had no hope of feeling it any time soon.

     My jacket was unzipped, inviting the cold air in. I always favored it. I had a strange desire to feel numb from the cold air nipping at me. Maybe it was because I wanted to be numb on the outside rather than the inside. I wanted to not feel. If I couldn't feel happy, I wanted to feel nothing at all.

     I thought about how I woke up this morning, finding the jacket on the corner of my bed. I assumed my mum left it there, probably seeing on TV that it would be cold today. It was nice of her, but I sort of felt guilty about her spending money on me when there were bigger matters.

      I finally reached the school building, and I walked through the front door, feeling instant warmth burst at me. I didn't know if I liked the feeling or not. It felt like something was bringing back the life within me, but I knew it truly couldn't. I don't think anything or anyone could once it's gone. No one except yourself.

       "Why the fuck isn't your jacket zipped up?" I heard Zayn ask, and it was only then that I noticed he was waiting for me by the school doors. He walked closer to me and zipped up my jacket. I couldn't even look him in the eyes. I was ashamed because of the things he knew. The secrets he managed to figure out.

      "Same reason why yours isn't." I mumbled, seeing his typical leather jacket that wasn't zipped.

     "Because I don't get cold easily. You're fucking freezing." He said, and I knew I was. I was fighting back the shivers that wanted to rush through my body. I knew my cheeks and nose were probably turned red from the cool air, but I shook my head at his observation.

    "I'm fine."  I whispered out, seeing Zayn stare at me intensely.

    "Are you?" He questioned, and I was going to defend myself, but he continued on. "If you get sick you'll have to miss school. You've never missed a day of school, Liam. Ever." He pointed out, and it made me question how he knew that. I was never even sure he noticed me before the bullying began.

      "Why do you care?" I defended.

      "Oh, I don't, but it's a lot more fun to have you to push around." He said, winking at me before motioning for me to follow him down the hall. 

       Art class wasn't so bad. Call me crazy, but it felt like Zayn was sort of dialing it down for today. Of course, that only meant he was planning something bigger, and that's when I felt the panic hit me. What if he planned to tell everyone about my dad abusing me? What if he planned to show them my bruises and cuts?

     I didn't have much time to think about it as I walked into music class behind Zayn, freezing as soon as I saw Drew sitting in the same chair as last class. He looked over at me, smirking a devilish grin, and I hurried to follow Zayn to his seat. I sat beside him, strangely feeling safe next to him. It was quite bewildering because I was terrified of Zayn, but I trusted him to protect me from Drew. It was confusing.

      "Running to your little protector?" Drew asked, walking over to where we sat, and I saw Zayn look up at him with a warning look. "He won't always be around, Liam. After all, everyone leaves you, don't they?"

     He smirked and walked back over to his seat as the teacher walked into the room, guiding us through vocal warm-ups. I was a bit shy singing beside Zayn, solely because I knew he could bash my voice if he wanted, and that would defeat all of my confidence I built. Zayn, on the other hand, had a magnificent voice. His warm-up vocals were so smooth and deep. I was surprised when he could even hit high notes. His range was astounding, but I would never tell him that.

      We finally got to break away and work on our own pieces of work. I was going to sit in the corner of the room when Zayn grabbed my arm, shaking his head, and pulling me alongside him to the opposite wall, right next to the piano in the room.

    I sat on the floor as I watched him play a few notes before sitting on the bench and looking down at me. "What've you got to work on?" He asked, seeming a bit bored. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen Zayn work on an actual piece of music while in class. Did he even write?

      "Well, considering the fact that you tore up all of the music I had-" I began, getting cut off as Zayn chuckled under his breath. He turned to face the piano, setting his hands on the keys before saying "I'm sure none of that was your best work."

      He began playing the piano, the notes filling the entire room, several people looking over to see what was going on. I'll admit, he was a very talented person, so talented that it made me jealous. He seemed to do everything with ease. He didn't try at art, yet everything came out perfect; he didn't seem to be one for singing, yet his voice was just as beautiful as he was; and he didn't even have to look at the keys of the piano, yet he never missed a note. It wasn't fair how I had to try so hard when it seemed so natural to him.

     "What are you playing?" I questioned, not recognizing the song at all. I watched as he left his eyes closed, fingers gliding expertly over the piano keys.

     "Just a song I wrote." He whispered, and I couldn't help but be fascinated. I've never seem Zayn in such a calm and tranquil state. It was almost shocking.

     "It's amazing." I confessed. "What is if about?" I knew that was the wrong question to ask as soon as he stopped playing, fingers jamming into the last keys he was on, his eyes snapping open and looking at me in anger.

     "Don't fucking worry about it." He growled, and I nodded.

     "Sorry. Just asking. You could have said it was personal."

    "Nothing's personal to me." He retorted. "I just don't see why you feel the need to pry into my life. What is there that you want to know? I hate you, and you despise me." He said, making me nod in fear. Then, a smirk overtook his features as he said "But there's no denying that you think I'm hot, is there, princess?"

     "You're such a conceited asshole." I groaned, rolling my eyes as I took out a piece of paper to begin writing a new song as Zayn laughed and turned back to the piano. He continued playing, note after note being played, a lovely melody from the piano. It was mesmerizing.

    Never have I ever heard or saw someone play with so much passion and emotion. I don't even think Zayn realized he was playing that way. It was like he was completely lost in the music, but I noticed everything.

    The way his eyes would squeeze shut on certain parts of the song, how his jaw would clench and unclench in unexplainable emotion, how his hands looked so glorious as they caressed and worked each key. It was all so intriguing.

    He finished playing the song, and I snuck a glance at him, seeing the longing sort of look in his eyes as he stares at the keys, lost in his own thoughts. It was only then that I thought, what if there was more to Zayn than what meets the eyes?  
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      I threw my backpack in the corner of my room as I laid on my bed, closing my eyes as my head throbbed slightly. It was such a long day today. The worst part would probably be how rude and annoying all of Zayn and Louis' friends were at lunch. Although, I don't know if I'd call them friends. They were more like followers. Almost everyone was at that school. Zayn was the king, and everyone else bowed at his feet. Unless you were the one getting stomped on by them, that is.

     I snapped my eyes open as I heard my window opening, sighing in relief as I saw Zayn instead of some murderer or burglar, although, was Zayn really better?

      "What are you doing here? And why use the window?" I asked, sitting up from my bed and looking at him. He pulled himself through expertly and then walked around the room, looking at more of my pictures and possessions.

     "I told you, I can come over any time I'd like. And why not? It wasn't locked, was it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me. "Why wasn't it? Do you have your own personal Romeo climbing through your window every night?" He teased, and I shook my head.

     "It wasn't locked because nobody ever walks by here often, and no one has tried to open my damn window." I said, going over to close it as a breeze flew in. I grabbed the jacket I wore to school out of my backpack and put it on, wrapping it around me to try and get warm again.

     I looked over to see Zayn eyeing the jacket before he smirked at me. "I thought you didn't own a jacket, by the way." He said. "Shocked to see you wore one to school."

      "Since when did you become a grade A stalker? And, if you must know, my mum bought it for me and left it on my bed last night." I said, going back over to sit down.

     "Oh really? You sure it wasn't a secret admire? Doubt mummy dearest has the money for that." He said, and I glared at him.

     "Don't talk about my mum." I muttered, also feeling guilty for being another burden on her life.

     "Hey, I get it. I'd beat the hell out of someone if they talked about my mum." He said, flicking a dream-catcher that hung from my bed cover. "Bad dreams?"

     I decided not to answer, asking a question if my own instead. "What is your mum like?" I asked, fearing the same reaction I got in class about how I was trying to pry into his life.

     "It doesn't matter." He said, clearly avoiding the topic as he moved onto another question. "When does your dad come home?" He asked, and I shrugged.

     "Whenever he's done drinking with his friends." I whispered, looking down at the pillow that I pulled into my lap. "But my mum should be home soon. She's nothing to be afraid of. Not that I'd want you to meet her." I said.

     "Oh, why's that? Don't think I can be polite enough to your mum?" He teased, walking closer to me and leaning down so our faces were close together. He was smirking at me, teasing and taunting.

     "No. I've seen the way you manipulate adults. I know you'll be polite, which is what I hate. Because you're nothing like that. You're cold and heartless." I said, seeing him grin at that answer.

      "Nice observation, but you need to make a small edit." He said, leaning into me and whispering in my ear. "I can manipulate more than just adults, princess."

      I gulped as he pulled away and gave a devilish smirk as he looked me in the eyes. I looked back down at my pillow, picking at it until I heard the front door opening. 

     "Liam, can you help me with these bags?" My mum called, and I looked at Zayn, seeing him raise an eyebrow at me.

      "You're not meeting my mum. You're not lying to her." I stated, and he shrugged, going over to the window.

     "See you at school then. Take care, princess." He said, winking at me before slipping out if the window. I went over and locked it shut before turning away. Why did I like him winking at me? It was unusual.

     I sighed and shook my head before walking out of my room and to the door, going outside and helping my mum. "Oh, thank you, sweetheart." She said, kissing my forehead. I smiled, taking two bags out of her hands. She gave me a confused look for a second, but I ignored it as I walked inside, setting the bags on the table before going back out for more.

     "How was your day?" She asked, handing me more bags, and I shrugged.

      "Typical. Started working on a new song in music class. We have to showcase one of our songs soon, and I'm a bit worried." I confessed. I've never really sang in front of a crowd. Well, I have, but I was twelve the last time I did. They were probably all just being nice to a child.

      "You shouldn't be. You have a lovely voice, Liam. It's a gift." She said, offering me a caring smile, and I just shrugged.

      "You're my mum. You're supposed to say that." I said, making her laugh and nod.

      "I guess I am, aren't I?" She said, grabbing the last couple of bags and closing the trunk of the car. "But I'm serious. You'll be fine." She comforted, and I turned, walking into the house as she trailed behind me. I liked the reassurance from my mum, but I never took it to heart. How could I when she was one person bringing me up while everyone else brought me down?

     We set the bags down on the table again, and I began unpacking, oblivious to my mum's stare the whole time. Finally, she began to speak.

     "As a mum, I'm also suppose to buy you necessities and pry into your private life." She said, making me smile at her choice of words, but then I was confused as she continued. "So, mind telling me where you got the jacket from? Or rather who?"

     I set down a box of macaroni and looked down at the jacket. It was grey, thin, but it was pretty warm. "Um... a friend." I said, feeling so confused because I assumed my mum left it for me, but she clearly didn't.

      "That's quite a lovely friend. When can I meet him or her?" She asked, beginning to unpack things from her bag now.

      "I don't know." I said, racking my brain to figure out who gave me the jacket, but there was only one person who knew where I lived and visited. But it couldn't be... could it?

      "Well, tell them I said thank you for keeping my baby warm when I couldn't." She kissed my cheek and pulled my hands away from the bags. "I've got the rest. Thank you. Go study or whatever it is you do in that room." She said with a smile.

     I nodded, turning to walk down the hall, still confused on everything. "Oh, and Liam," She called out. I turned back to look at her and she smiled. "I've got a little extra money left over this month. You're father is going to a party with his friend tomorrow night to watch the game. What do you say to going out to eat?" She asked, and I gave a genuine smile, loving the idea of spending time with my mum how we use to. The only thing was, she would see how little I actually ate if we went out to eat. I'd worry about that later though.

     "Yeah. I'd love to." I smiled, seeing her nod in satisfaction before shooing me away in a motherly way. I shook my head, loving how my mother was.

     I turned and walked to my room, closing the door and pulling the jacket off of my body, looking at it in curiosity. I didn't understand anything anymore, but my heart was beating quickly and my stomach had butterflies in it. I didn't really know what I was feeling. Thankful, maybe? But it didn't make any sense to me.

     I threw the jacket onto the floor before taking my shoes and clothes off, getting ready for bed. I snuggled under my covers and closed my eyes, trying to ignore all of the events of today, but constant flashes of Zayn playing piano, seeing the intense emotions flit across his face, and the way he smirked so close to me all flashed through my head, and I despised the feeling.

     Still, I opened my eyes and got out of bed, looking out of the window. "You can manipulate anyone." I whispered out, unlocking the window and grabbing the jacket from the floor before going back to bed, a big part of me ashamed at the way I was feeling, but a small part of me was smiling. The part that had a fluttering heart and small hopes.

      There had to be more to Zayn than meets the eye. His disguise was slipping, and I was terrified to look underneath it, but I longed for someone whose purpose wasn't beating the crap out of me. I longed to see that people could be good.

    But that only happens in movies and fairytales. Not real life. In real life, people were just wicked for no reason. Dark souled without a cause. A dark king and an abandoned, tortured princess. That's all my fairytale had to it at the moment. That's all it'd ever have.


	9. Semblance

"Good morning, princess." I heard Zayn say as he pulled himself through the window. I blinked my eyes open, squinting as the sunlight hit my eyes. I remembered I was basically snuggling up with the jacket, so I threw it under the covers and snuggled deeper into bed.

"What do you want?" I mumbled, closing my eyes again. It was early, and it definitely wasn't a school day, so I had no clue why he was here.

"Nothing. Just had a thought. Why spend time sitting around at home when I could be here bothering you and ruining your day?" He chuckled, making me open my eyes again to see him sitting down on the corner of my bed.

We sat in silence as Zayn played with my dream catcher again. All of the thoughts I had last night came rushing back in waves. Why did I even unlock the window for him? Why couldn't I just leave it closed?

"Yeah, well you already have. My mum wants to meet you." I said, making him look at me with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" He questioned before he began to tease. "Did you tell her all about your little crush on me?"

"Asshole." I muttered, making him laugh, but then I got serious. "No. She wanted to meet who ever gave me that jacket." I said, making him go mute, looking me in the eyes. "Why'd you give me the jacket, Zayn?"

"I didn't." He denied, looking down at my blanket and picking at the design. I sat up in bed, not caring or feeling self-conscious about being only in boxers. Not at the moment. I completely forgot about the cuts and bruises that littered my chest.

"Well, someone did. How did you put it? My 'secret admire'?" I teased, finally claiming some kind of victory over Zayn, even if it was a small one.

He turned to glare at me, but the look turned into one of concern as he saw the display of torture on my skin. I covered up my chest, coughing in discomfort and looking down at the blanket instead of facing him. I hated that he knew such a dark secret.

"And where is this jacket you assume I bought?" He asked, and I shrugged, not wanting to admit that I slept with it. Hell, I basically cuddled it as my stomach erupted with butterflies at the very thought of Zayn.

"What the hell do you mean you don't know? That jacket wasn't exactly cheao you know-" He began, and it was my turn to smirk as I cut him off.

"So you admit that you did buy it?" I asked, and he snapped his mouth shut, his jaw clenching at my knowing look.

"I'm not a fucking fag like you." He growled out, and I did my best to ignore the comment, even if it hurt.

"I never said you were gay, Zayn." I pointed out. He was always so defensive at the topic, and I had no idea why. "But that means you did something nice. Which means you can't be all bad." I said quietly.

"That's where you're wrong. Because it was for my benefit. I told you if you got sick then school would be boring. Just trying to keep you going so I can piss you off some more." He said, but he didn't dare to look at me as he said it. 

"It's okay to do something nice, Zayn. Even for a person you hate."

"I didn't fucking do it for you. I don't give a fuck about you." He hissed out, making my hope and admiration deflate. I gripped the jacket under the covers, messing with the fabric as I wrung it in my hands.

It was completely silent between us. I didn't want to say or do anything that would cause Zayn to get even more angry. I didn't even know why he was here so early or if it was safe for him to be here.

Just as I thought that, I headd my parents arguing with each other. My dad was yelling as my mum struggled to make her stand on things.

"You're taking him out to eat? Are you kidding me? He comes out of a closet he should have stayed in, and you're basically rewarding him for it!" My dad yelled, making me swallow thickly at the thought of Zayn currently judging my life. He probably agreed with my dad.

"He came out to use years ago, and he expects supportive parents. I don't see why you can't accept him for who he is! He's still our son, and that boy is the greatest and sweetest person." My mum said. I didn't believe her words. How was I suppose to when there were so many against it? Even I was against it.

"Sweet? Great? I want my son to be strong and manly. Not a fucking fairy." He argued, and my mum gasped.

"Get out. Go to that damn party of yours, and when you come back tonight you're sleeping on the couch!" She spat, making me worried. Never have they fought this badly.

"Then maybe I won't come back. I'll just stay out all night. Spend the night at Jim's." My dad roared, slamming the front door and making me jump.

"Fine with me!" My mum yelled before I heard her footsteps down the hall and her bedroom door slamming shut. I knew she was probably crying, and I hated that thought. I hated the fact that tears were building in my eyes even more.

I looked away, but I felt Zayn's gaze on me. I couldn't take him judging and criticizing me. Not through this.

"You should leave." I mumbled out, feeling numb all over again. Every single part of me felt so numb.

"Liam...." Zayn said, trailing off, and there was something about the way he said my name that made me break down right in front of him, even if I never wanted to.

He sat silently as I cried. He didn't touch me, he didn't offer comforting words, he did nothing but stare, but somehow that meant so much to me.

I don't know how long I cried for, but it felt like hours. I looked at the clock, reading the time. 9:50. My mum would probably be making breakfast now.

"I'm sorry." I said, laughing at myself as I wiped my eyes clean, not noticing that I was using the jacket sleeves to do it. I saw Zayn eye it with a knowing look, and I couldn't stop it when my cheeks felt hot.

"Look," Zayn sighed, and I raised an eyebrow as he continued. "I may hate you, but I, um... I understand pain, Liam." He said, a distant look in his eyes as if he was remembering something. I didn't know if I wanted to know.

Silence fell between us again, and I wanted to hit myself as I looked at his hand resting on the blanket, feeling a strong urge to just grab it in mine. It was probably warm and strong. My father would be so proud if he had a son like Zayn. Because he was mean and strong. He wasn't gay. He wasn't like me.

"Well, I guess I should get going now. Find something to do." He said as he got off of my bed.

"Why not just go and cause havoc with Louis?" I asked.

"Louis' going out all day with his parents. Seems like everyone has a fucking parent day today." He said, opening the window to my room and letting in a cold breeze. I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders, seeing Zayn close his eyes in a sort of relief at the air.

"So... you just didn't want to be lonely?" I asked, thinking I was getting somewhere until he threw his head back and laughed.

"I'm not afraid of being by myself. I like being alone." He said, making me think about all of the times he was truly alone. It seems that even when Zayn was around people, having them worship him, he was always alone.

"I don't." I whispered, not meaning to say it, but I did. Zayn stared at me for a second before shaking his head and climbing out of the window.

"Take care, princess." He said, landing on the ground below and closing the window behind him. I watched as he walked to the sidewalk and began to walk away. There was something there. There was something underneath the hard exterior that was Zayn Malik. I just didn't know how to find it.  
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"Since when did you like coffee?" My mum asked as the waitress walked away from our table.

"Since when did you like sugar-free tea?" I returned, seeing her sip the tea without adding any sugar packets or cubes into it.

"Since I got too lazy to worry about sugar." She giggled, and it was nice. It was nice to be able to enjoy a meal with my mum, even if the resturaunt wasn't considered fancy. It was more of a local diner.

"Well, if you must know, since school was becoming a lot of work. Needing extra energy." I said, and she took a drink of tea before speaking again.

"That stuff gets addictive." She said, making me shrug.

"At least I'm not doing drugs." I defended.

She laughed at that before nodding. "True. I'll give you that. You've always been my good little Liam." She cooed, running her hand through my hair, and I felt like that loved and cherished little kid again.

"Until I ruined your dreams of having grandchildren." I muttered in guilt, and my mum shook her head.

"They'll still be my grandkids, Liam. Adopted or not, I'd love them just the same. I love you, and am completely behind whoever you decide to love." She said, squeezing my hand, and that meant so much to me.

"Speaking of love..." She trailed off as the waitress came back with out food. Just looking at my plate full of food made me nervous. How would I eat all of that? I could barely even eat a granola bar at breakfast. "Seeing anyone special?" She finished as the lady walked away with a smile.

"No." I said, keeping it simple. I didn't want to get into the whole reason why nobody would ever love me, let alone like me. I was a complete loser and social outcast. The only person who saw any good in me was my mum.

"I'm sure you have plenty of admirers. Maybe they're too shy to speak up." She said, pitying me probably.

"Maybe." I mumbled as I picked at the baked potato on my plate with the fork, creating scrape marks into the side of it.

That's how it continued. Small conversation flitrering between my mum and I as we drank and ate. I managed to cut apart most of my food, making it look like I ate more than I actually did. It was the only thing I could think to do.

Finally, my mum was finished, and she stood up. "I'm going to the lady's room for a second. I'll pay when I get back, and we can leave when you're ready." She informed, grabbing for her purse.

"I'm ready." I said, making her nod and ruffle my hair before kissing my forehead and making her way to the restroom.

I looked down at my plate, seeing that it had basically the same amount of food as when I got it. I got up, walking over to the trash can and throwing some of it away. I sighed in my own disappointment before looking up and freezing as I saw a familiar person walk through the front doors.

I crouched down, watching as Louis walked through the door with a curly-haired lad. He seemed around the same age as us, but I've never seen him before in my life. Was he another friend of Louis and Zayn's?

I continued watching as they were led to a table. I was basically gaping as Louis pulled the chair out for the other guy and kissed his lips gently. Did that mean... was Louis bi? Or gay? Or pan? I didn't know what he was, but he just kissed a guy!

I rushed back to my table, feeling light-headed and so confused. Why would Louis dislike me for being gay if he was in a relationship with a guy? Or was it a prank on the guy? But it couldn't be. The way Louis looked at him after kissing him held so much love and admiration.

Did Zayn know? He couldn't have. I remembered how he told me Louis was suppose to spend all day with his parents today. Did Louis lie? What was going on?

"Are you okay, Liam?" My mum asked as she walked back over to me. I looked up at her, nodding as I stood upright. She set money on the table for the bill, and I quickly followed her as we made our way out of the resturaunt.

I tried to walk past the table Louis was sitting in, but I ended up tripping on the chair leg of a lady in a red dress. She looked at me in concern, her boyfriend or husband almost standing to help me, but I caught myself and apologized to them, seeing smiles of acceptance on their faces.

I looked up at Louis' table, freezing as I made eye contact with Louis. His face changed from shocked to angry to an almost pleading look as he stared at me. Zayn didn't know. There was no way he could have known.

I only shook my head before rushing out of the resturaunt with my mum. I never wanted to look back, and I never wanted to face Louis again.

"What happened back there?" My mum asked as soon as we were both in the car and she was backing out of the driveway.

"What? Oh, nothing. Just saw someone I knew." I muttered.

"Oh! Was it the friend who gave you the jacket?" She asked, her eyes never leaving the road.

"No. It was his friend." I said. "I guess he was on a date."

"His?" My mum questioned in excitement. "Liam James Payne, if you lied to me about your love life-"

"I didn't lie, mum! Can we not talk about this?" I asked, making my mum surrender.

"Okay, okay. Sorry." She said, the silence only lasting a few seconds before she asked "Do you at least have a crush on him?"

"Mum!" I groaned, but I was thinking about the question seriously. Did I have a crush on Zayn? I did before the bullying began, and there was no denying he was attractive, but I didn't really know him. I knew he was hiding something. I knew he did nice things at times but hated being recognized for it. I knew he was not my friend. I knew he despised me. I knew he hated me.

"Maybe." I sighed, hating the way my stomach dropped at the confession. My mum gave me a look before she continued driving us home.

As soon as we arrived back home, we said goodnight to each other and I made my way to my room, taking off my clothes and leaving only my boxers on. I crawled under the covers, taking the jacket with me, and I snuggled up against it again.

I couldn't describe why, but it made me feel secure. It was a type of warmth and safety. It was the only nice thing someone has ever done for me. I cherished that more than anything.

I closed my eyes, the question of whether or not I had a crush on Zayn filling my mind again. And I still didn't have a clue. A part of me disliked him. He was nothing but cruel and angry. Still, another part of me hoped that the dark king could also be a knight in shining armor.

I thought about the small glimpses of something more that I saw in him. There was something behind the blank and cruel look in his eyes. There were buried emotions, but that didn't mean he thought of me any differently.

I finally let go of all of my thoughts, forgetting the pain and hurt I felt as I focused on the warmth and comforting smell of the jacket in my hands. I laid completely still for about five minutes before the question plagued my mind again.

Did I have a crush on Zayn Malik? Did I have a crush on my bully? Or did I have an infatuation with the idea of discovering something more?


	10. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today is Zayn's Birthday! My baby's 24! :')

I woke up the next morning to a rude awakening. The covers were pulled off of my body before I was dragged by my feet to the end of the bed. I panicked and opened my eyes, seeing my dad glaring down at me.

"Your fucking mum thought it was a good idea to eat out with you last night, huh? You don't deserve that you worthless piece of shit." He sneered, though his words sounded sloshed and his eyes were red-rimmed. He probably just got home from the party, and my mum probably left for work.

"Wasting our fucking rent money on a sorry excuse." He tisked, and then his eyes locked in on the jacket at the top of my bed. He grabbed it and fisted it in his hands, showing it to me. "Whose is this? Who the hell gave this to you?" He roared.

"M-mum did." I stuttered out, feeling instantly awake and scared for my life. He scoffed, and I felt the first blow to my face.

"You will not lie to me, Liam. Your mum doesn't have money for a jacket like this. I never saw her buy it, and I would never let her buy it. Be a fucking man and deal with the cold. No, someone gave this to you. So who was it? Huh?" He pressed, his grip on my thivh tightening, and I hissed in pain.

"N-nobody." I cried out, and I gasped as the jacket was suddenly around my neck, my father tightening it enough to barely choke me.

"Oh, someone did. Was it your little boyfriend?" He asked, pulling on the jacket and cutting off any air to my lungs. I clawed at it as he continued questioning. "You probably gave up your body for it, didn't you? Fucking whore. Nobody gives a damn about you. Nobody would just give it to you." He said, and I was writhing, trying to get air through my nose again.

He loosened the jacket as soon as black dots filled my vision, signaling that I was close to passing out. "You're not leaving this damn room today. But first, basement. Now." He ordered, and I shook my head, desperate to just be left alone.

"What did I say about obeying?" He threatened and oulled me up by my arm. "Basement now. While I get rid of this filthy jacket."

And that was the rest of my weekend. Torture and pain as I bled even more on the floor of the basement. Then, I locked myself in my room, locking my window and closing the curtains as well. I didn't want anyone to see me this way.

My mum came home around two o'clock, and I was still lying awake, too sore and in pain to fall asleep. I didn't want to go to school tomorrow. I didn't want to cover up bruises with make-up. I didn't want to come face to face with Louis after what I saw. I didn't want to need a bully bodyguard to protect me from another bully. Most importantly I didn't want to be face to face with Zayn when he knew about my dad. There would be too much shame.

But I would go to school, and I would pretend there was no pain or suffering. I would pretend everything was okay.  
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"Aye, Payne!" I heard Louis' voice yell from the end of the hallway. I froze. He knew that I knew his little secret, but I would never tell. Not if he didn't want me to. Someone's sexuality was something they should work up the courage to reveal. It was delicate, and terrible when someone outed you if you weren't ready.

I closed my locker, turning to Louis only to be pushed against it harshly. "You didn't see a damn thing at that resturaunt, got it?" He growled. "You will stay away from him, and you will not tell a soul." He added.

"I won't." I said, thought it wasn't out of fear. I knew Louis would never really hurt me unless he wanted to deal with Zayn. Or unless Zayn gave the order to. "Louis, I know what it's like to be scared, but you don't have to be. I won't tell."

"Why don't I fucking believe you? You'd probably do anything to get revenge on how I've treated you. Why should I feel safe? Why should I feel like you wouldn't tell Zayn?" He asked angrily.

"What's the boy's name?" I questioned.

"Huh?" Louis asked, confusion feeling his tone before he became defensive. "Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Just tell me. What's his name?" I asked again, knowing he was scared, and he probably wouldn't understand, but I had my reasons for not telling.

"Harry." He finally answered, a scared tone taking over him. "His name's Harry, and he never did a thing to you, so if you touch him, I won't hesitate to-"

"I don't want to hurt anyone, Louis. Have I ever been one to hurt someone else? I just wanted to know."

"Why? Why does that matter to you?"

"Because it seems like he's very special to you. It seemed like you liked him a lot, maybe even loved him." Louis' eyes snapped to mine at the mention of love. There was fear evident in his eyes.

"But you're more terrified of your reputation being trashed, aren't you? Because you've seen what happened to me when I came out. So, if I tell, you'd run away from the truth. You'd lose him, and you'd hate yourself. And, like I said, when have I ever been one to want to hurt someone else?"

Louis stared at me a while, curiosity and so many other emotions and questions working inside of his mind. His eyes told too many different stories, they all flew by too fast to read. He quickly snapped out of it as soon as Zayn's voice was heard. I quickly turned my face, looking away from him to hide the bruises that I couldn't manage to cover-up. Louis might not have noticed, but Zayn would.

"Hey, Lou. How was the family outing?" He asked, and Louis flinched at the word 'outing,' looking over at me with a worried look, but I nodded, letting him know I wouldn't tell.

"Boring. My mum made us have a picnic at the park. We were suppose to have 'family bonding time.' I just wanted to leave and hang out with friends. What did you do all day?" Louis asked him.

"Not much, honestly. Just had a lazy day in. Everyone seemed to be too busy to hang out." He said, and I don't know why I was shocked about him leaving out the part about visiting me at my house. I don't even think Louis knew about the little visits.

"Sucks. Well, I'm gonna go talk to Mrs. Inglewood about a way to bring my grade up. My mum will ground me again if I fail." He grumbled, making Zayn laugh.

"Oh, those bars she put on your window last time were hilarious. She takes grounding very seriously." He said, and I could hear the smile on his face. Louis agreed with him before they both said their goodbyes and Louis walked away. I tried to slip away as well, but Zayn's voice stopped me.

"Where are you going?" He asked, grabbing my arm and turning me around. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked, lifting up my face and looking at my bruises. I knew where each one was. There was a giant one above my left eye that I mostly managed to cover, my eyes was lnly slightly blackened by my dad's blows, one near my chin, and I managed to fully cover the one on my right cheek. However, bruises and fresh scars still littered my chest, my stomach, and my arms under my long-sleeve shirt. I had fingerprints on my thighs from when my dad pulled me to the edge of my bed and found the jacket. The jacket. I hoped Zayn didn't notice I walked in the cold.

"Nothing." I said, looking away from him.

"C'mon." He said, pulling me behind him. I had no clue where we were going, but I followed along, doing my best not to limp due to the pain in my leg and my side. There was even more blood this time around than there's ever been before, but what scared me was the fact that I welcomed it.

We reached a restroom and Zayn ushered me inside after checking to see if it was vacant. He locked the door behind us and turned to me. "Lift up your shirt."

"Why? I told you I'm fine. Nothing happened. I'm just really clumsy."

"Bullshit, Liam. You're not clumsy at all. I've known you for years, and I've never even seen you so much as trip over something if it wasn't my foot. Lift up your shirt." He demanded, and I sighed, lifting it up and looking away from him.

My eyes began to water as I saw my reflection in the mirror. Scars and red welts littered my skin. They hurt to even look at, and I flinched in pain when Zayn touched my skin.

"Shit, Liam." He breathed out, and I wiped away a stray tear, not wanting pity, not that I thought Zayn would give any.

"Your dad did this, didn't he?" He asked, and I was cautious as I saw his fists ball up at his sides.

"Maybe. It doesn't matter." I spoke lowly, afraid to say anything at all. Why did he have to know?

"Because he's your father. He's suppose to support you, not hurt you. I may not... like you... but I know that no parent should great their child like this! You have to tell someone." He said, and I was so embarrassed and ashamed. I was afraid, and I let it all out, doing something I never thought I'd do. I yelled at Zayn.

"Why the fuck do you care so much? Huh!? You're just like him. You only live to torture me. I'm fucking surprised you're not celebrating my pain. You said you wanted my life to be a living hell since the very first time you bullied me, well guess what? It already was! I've been dealing with this for more than half of my life! Don't you dare tell me that I need to tell someone when I know that telling someone would only cause even more trouble. My mum loves that man, and there's no escaping him. You say you don't give a damn about me, so leave me the hell alone!" I yelled, pushing him backwards, but he only stumbled a bit, looking shocked before he spoke again.

"Where's your jacket?" He asked, and I pushed him again. I wanted a reaction. I wanted more pain. I wanted something to help me forget the things my father does to hurt me. The whipping and the beating and the bleeding. I needed someone else's handprints on me, even if it wasn't in a loving manner.

"Don't change the fucking subject!" I cried, pushing him again. "I hate you! I hate you, Malik. I hate you so fucking much!" I yelled, pounding his chest, and then, Zayn did something that surprised me. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear.

"I know. It's okay. Let it out, princess." He whispered, and I broke down, confessing everything and anything.

"He hates me so much. Ever since I was eight years old. People hate me for being who I am. All of the fucking pain, it's all I've known for so long, and I'm still not numb to it!" I cried. "I wish I was. I wish I could just...." I trailed off, realizing what I was about to confess to my bully.

"What happened to the jacket?" Zayn asked again as I was despising the tiny voice in my head that said it felt good to be in Zayn's arms. My mum's question of whether I liked Zayn came to mind again. Why was he so confusing?

"My dad found it. Didn't believe me when I said my mum got it for me. So he... yeah." I whispered, closing my eyes as I felt Zayn's arms squeeze around me tighter. "He burned the jacket." I finished.

"I'll get you another one." He said, making me pull away from him harshly.

"Why? Why would you-" I was cut off bt Zayn stepping closer to me and looking me straight in the eyes.

"Because maybe I care about you, Liam. Just a little." He added in a mumble, and I was shocked at his confession, seeing him look away from me as if he was embarrassed. And I felt my cheeks heat up, my heart seeming to pound at a thousand beats per minute. Why did that mean so much to me?

"We're gonna be late for class." I coughed out, ignoring the butterflies erupting in my heart, Ignoring the way I felt Zayn's stare on the side of my face as I looked away, trying to distract myself.

He only said he cared a bit. He never said he liked me. At least, not like I like him. I finally know that I do feel something for him. I like Zayn Malik, but that was dangerous and more terrifying than anything I've ever felt.

"We're not going to class. Screw it." He said, and I snapped my head to him, shaking my head quickly.

"If my dad finds out I skipped class, he'll only-"

"Liam, stop." He said, holding up his hand and touching my cheek. My breath hitched as I tried to repel my eyes from looking down to his lips. I've never kissed anyone before, but I knew a small part of me wanted to kiss Zayn.

"It's true. He did when I got detention." I divulged, trying to determine if it was pain that I saw in Zayn's eyes.

"Just stay in your room and lock the door. Call me if he tries." He said, and I shook my head.

"What are you gonna do, Zayn? He's my dad. And you're my bully. Nothing changes, right?" I said, a part of me hoping he would disagree, but he dropped his hand from my cheek, a part of me missing the touch, and nodded.

"Right. Of course. Just... tell him you were with a girl. I'll have someone call your house to make it more believable." He suggested, and I knew my dad would like that. He would like to think this was just a phase, but I didn't know if it would work. But the way Zayn looked at me made me give in, nodding my head and chastising myself for agreeing.

"There you go, princess." He said, smiling an actual smile my way, and my heart skipped a beat. "C'mon."

I followed behind him, knowing that this was a big mistake, and it was crazy, but a part of me wanted to trust Zayn, eventhough I swore to never trust a soul when all they'd do is hurt me like Drew did. Why do I always have to be such a failure?


	11. Distrust

"Where are we going?" I asked, walking behind Zayn as the wind blew harder. I tried to suppress my shivers, and I did a good job at it. I usually did.

"Shopping." He answered before turning to me. "Give me your backpack." He requested, and I looked at him, cautious of giving away my things to him. "Just do it." He sighed, and I took it off, giving it to him. "Wait here."

He walked away, disappearing down the street and then turning through some trees. I stood on the sidewalk, looking around and feeling guilty. I was never good at doing daring things. I was so nervous about getting caught skipping. I didn't want another detention. I was sure Drew would be there. He seemed like a constant resident ever since we first met.

I watched a woman walking to her car, afraid that she would see me and ask questions about why I wasn't in school, but she only looked up and smiled before getting into her car and carrying on with her day. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and rubbed my arms with my hands, feeling them begin to become so numb that it hurt. A stinging pain that was icy cold. I jumped as a jacket was wrapped around my shoulders -- a leather jacket.

"You scared the hell out of me!" I scolded Zayn, seeing him laugh at me.

"Calm down, princess. Nobody is going to care about a couple of teens skipping a day of school. Now, let's go. The mall won't get busy until another hour or so. We've gotta beat the people traffic." He said.

"Well take your jacket back. I don't need it." I said, trying to deny the warmth I felt. Zayn's scent also lingered on the jacket, making me want to hold onto it tightly and just sniff it. It was a weird thought actually.

"Seems like you do. Your shivering. Besides, I don't see you making a move to take it off." He pointed out, and he was right. In fact, I was doing the opposite. My fingers gripped onto the leather like a vice, as if the jacket was my lifeline that I didn't want to let go of. I looked down in embarrassment and put my arms through the jacket sleeves. I looked up, seeing a look of near admiration in Zayn's eyes. Why was he so complicated?

"So, um, the mall." I muttered out, seeing Zayn nod and walk on as if nothing had happened. Why did I suddenly want to awknowledge what happened in that moment though?

I rolled up the sleeves a bit, the jacket only being a tad bit longer on me as a whole because Zayn was just that bit taller. I had to admit that I liked the fact that I was only as tall as his forehead. But it's not like it would ever matter.

"Alright, I've got about three hundred dollars. You got any money?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"I don't have a job or allowance. No way to get money." I said. "I can just look wait somewhere while you shop. Sit on the benches outside of stores." I suggested, and he shook his head.

"The first thing we're doing is buying you a jacket." He announced, and I was going to object, which I guess he knew because he stopped me. "And, yes, I don't have to, but I'm going to. Can't have you miss school and leave me bored, remember?" He pointed out.

I don't know why I kept thinking he was kind for another reason. Yes, I knew I wanted Zayn to like me but that was such a peculiar thought. It'd never happen. Zayn was straight, homophobic, and my bully. He had no romantic feelings toward me, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to, honestly.

"And what are you getting?" I asked instead, seeing as he already shut down my idea of not buying my anything.

"Whatever I like. Maybe some new boots." He spoke absentmindedly. "Maybe you should get gloves to go with the jacket. Your fingers are turning blue." He noticed, and I shoved them into the jacket pockets only for him to stop walking and take them out, rubbing my hands between his own before cupping them and breathing hot air on them. I couldn't help the shiver that ran up my spine, seeing Zayn smirk at that. And I felt myself blushing, but my cheeks were already red from the cold.

"Warm enough?" He asked after repeating the same motions a couple of times, and I nodded, almost hypnotized by him. Why was he doing all of this?

He dropped my hands and we continued to walk in silence. All I could think about was the way I was beginning to feel for Zayn. When did it start and why? Was it the jacket? The random visits? The revealed secret? The bodyguard business? The piano moment? Or was I reaching for something to hold on to?

"Which store do you want to go to first?" Zayn asked, and I realized that we were at the front of the mall already. I shrugged my shoulders because I didn't know which stores there were. Truth be told, I've never even been to the mall. My mum did all of the shopping and the mall was always too expensive.

"Why don't we just window shop. Tell me if you like something." He suggested, and I followed him into the mall, instantly overwhelmed by the amount of people present. It felt exactly like school, and I had the feeling of being judged and hated.

I slipped off Zayn's jacket and passed it back to him, feeling as if people would know it was really his and assume things. After all, leather didn't suit me.

"Why'd you take it off?" He asked, taking it from my hands anyway and slipping it back on, unrolling the sleeves.

"So I can try others on." I excused, but I didn't think he believed me. He let it go though.

I followed behind him, looking through shop windows. How do people decide what they liked when everything just seemed to lovely and glamorized in the shop windows. It was a shame that a mannequin's body was better than my own. Then again, they weren't covered in damaged skin.

"Like that?" Zayn asked, and I barely noticed I was staring at one particular shop window, but the clothing really did catch my eye. I nodded my head hesitantly and he motioned for me to follow him into the store.

"You need a jacket first. Like any of these?" He asked, pointing to an array of jackets. I went through them, looking at the price of the first jacket. Nearly fifty dollars for one jacket? I looked through them all, finding that the cheapest one was close to fifteen dollars, so I held it up to Zayn.

He looked at it before taking it from me. He felt the inside of it and then checked the price before handing it back to me. "This jacket isn't even warm, Liam. I have enough money for any of them. It doesn't matter. Either you pick one you like, or I'll pick one for you." He ordered, and I sighed, putting it back and grabbing one that was nearly forty bucks. It was warm, and I liked the solid black design of it. Zayn checked it again and gave a thumbs up.

"Nice to see you can follow orders, princess." He mocked, and I remembered my place with Zayn. I was the bullied and he was the bully. Even if what he was doing right now was nice. It didn't change anything. This would never change.  
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I got home around four o'clock, seeing as Zayn bought a lot of stuff. I settled for just the jacket and gloves. I followed Zayn back to where he left to get our backpacks, and then I walked home after confirming the time some girl was suppose to call. Apparently some girl liked his friend. He promised to hook them up if she made the call. Six to seven o'clock was my window.

I would be lying to myself if I said I didn't feel a bit giddy when Zayn asked for my number. Of course, it was only so that the girl could call, but it was still nerve wrecking.

My dad came home around six o'clock, and I was desperately waiting for a call. I knew he was angry. I could tell by the way he slammed the door before making his way toward my bedroom. He didn't knock, just pushed the door opened and looked at me with so muh disgust and rage.

"Are you skipping school now? Huh? Your school called and said you weren't in any of your classes. I told them you were sick, but only because I don't need you in detention with some guy. You were with a guy, weren't you? You nasty little faggot!" He yelled, pushing me back on my bed.

"I- I was with a girl. We were just hanging out." I lied. I would not say that I liked her. I would say she was just a friend. I know I'm gay, and lieing that way would say that I was ashamed of my sexuality. I wasn't. I was only tired of all of the judgment.

"Bullshit. Nobody could be your friend." He spat.

"She said she'd call. Sometimes between now and seven. I-I'll let y-you talk to her." I managed, and he looked at me suspiciously.

"If that girl doesn't call I want you stripped and in front of that basement wall. I don't care if your lash marks reopen. I don't care if you faint countless times. That means you lied to me, and you skipped to be with some other fag." He growled. I was going to say that Zayn wasn't even gay, but that would result in the worst possible punishment. To reveal that I really was with a guy.

"Got that?" He snapped, and I nodded, holding in my whimper of fear. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

He slammed the door shut, and I grabbed my phone in my hand, sitting on the bed and doing nothing but staring at the screen. I was praying for a call. I didn't want to feel anymore pain. I still couldn't walk properly because of how much my side hurt. I couldn't face my mum this way. Not at all.

I stared at the phone, feeling the time go by little by little. A minute, then five more, then ten more, all the way to seven o'clock, and I felt my eyes begin to water when nothing happened. My phone didn't ring. The screen didn't light up.

I waited a bit longer. 7:05. 7:15. 7:30. Nothing.

There wasn't a call. There probably never was going to be one in the first place.  
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It was nearly eleven when I limped back to my room, feeling pain all over my body. He left my face alone though. He knew my mum would probably see me sometime soon, so a freshly bruises face wouldn't make a good appearance. But the rest of my body was in turmoil.

My thighs had lashes, and the blood was drying up all up and down my body. I had to shower and clean it all off, but I was so tired. Not to mention how dizzy I felt.

I leaned against the door, groaning in pain, and I jumped when I heard my window open. I knew who it was, and I was pissed at him. I was pissed at my dad. I was pissed at myself for being so easily manipulated. And I felt guilty for also being pissed at my mum for being so oblivious.

"What do you want?" I tried to speak harshly, but I was so sleepy. My body was spent, and I was exhausted.

"Are you okay?" I heard Zayn ask, and I turned to him, seeing his jaw clench as he took in my appearance. I was shirtless and pantless, only a pair of boxers on. Everywhere were bruises, gashes, and scars littering my body. Dried up blood made the wounds look even worse than they were -- not that they weren't gruesome.

"What do you think? I decided to trust my bully. Look where that got me." I glared at him.

"Liam, I told her to call. I promised her I'd hook her up with my friend Jaden, but she called me at eight, telling me that she changed her mind. She said she wanted to win him over herself, and I tried to call you, but you never answered." He tried to reason. "How was I suppose to know this would happen?"

"Because my father hates the very fact that I'm alive, Zayn, and you know that! The mention of my name is poison to him. He hates me for my sexuality, and now he assumes I was out with a guy I liked. He thinks I'm in a relationship with a guy, and that's the most vile thing to him."

"I'm not gay." Zayn spat out, and I was so frustrated with everything.

"I never said you were!" I raged, trying to step toward him, but my legs gave out on me, being too exhausted to stand anymore. I grabbed onto the door handle, pulling myself back up and ignoring the staring that Zayn was doing. I felt wounded and exposed. Vulnerable. Vulnerable to my enemy.

"Why the hell do you care so much? As long as you know you're not then it isn't a problem, is it? Hell, if he knew you bullied and beat me for it as well you could be best fucking friends." I said, knowing it was true. "He'd rather have a son like you." I confessed quietly.

"No he wouldn't." Zayn said. "I'm fucked up in my own way." He mumbled lowly, and I don't think I was suppose to hear that. I ignored it anyway.

"You should leave now, and probably never come back again." I said, not even able to look at him anymore. He screwed me over, and now I was paying for it. I was an idiot to believe things would be okay. I was foolish for crushing on him. I was stupid for feeling heartbroken at the fact that Zayn probably never really cared.

I held onto to my dresser as I made my way to the closet to grab clothes to shower with. I didn't want to look at Zayn. I didn't want to hate myself even more for thinking he was beautiful. Maybe on the outside.

"Um, do you need help?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"Just fucking leave! Leave and leave me alone. Stop pretending to care. Stop being my fucking bodyguard at school. Take back all the crap you bought, too. I don't need pity or charity." I snapped.

"Liam, I was only trying to-"

"Trying to make me believe that anyone actually gave a damn about whether I existed or not. But I'm done with your twisted little game. Nothing changes, right? I despise my own existance and you remind me why. Bully and bullied. You're the king of the school, and I-"

"You're my princess." He said, and I tensed up as I felt him step closer. I couldn't determine the emotion in his voice as he said it, but I was too pissed and betrayed to even care.

"I bow down at your feet. Or more like get stomped on by them. Nothing changes. We've said it multiple times, and now I hate you more than ever before, but it's okay because I hate myself more for trusting you and actually thinking you had any good in you." I laughed humorlessly.

"I never told you to trust me-"

"But you never gave me any other option, did you? You forced and you ruled. So leave me the hell alone." I demanded.

"Fine. Sorry for treating you like an actual human being. But I guess you are just a worthless fag who deserves what was given to him." He spat, and I took it, taking the pain and the words that tore my heart in two.

"And you're an egotistical asshole who wouldn't last a day in the real world." I smirked, turning to see how angry that made him.

He looked for the bag with the jacket, picking it up and taking it along with him as he opened the window again. "Watch it, princess." He growled, and I stayed emotionless until he left.

Then, I broke down. I fell to my bed, curling up and crying in self-pity. What hurt the most was the fact that Zayn was my first true crush. The first person I thought would make things better, but I also knew it was a fail from the start. He wasn't gay, he didn't like me at all, he saw me as worthless also, and he never cared. And I let myself believe that this fairytale could have a happy ending, but that led to the demise of it all.

I fell asleep -- cold, bloody, and hating myself more than I've ever hated myself before.


	12. Sorry

I walked to school the next morning through the cold, not feeling anything at all. I felt drained and life felt dead. I finally felt numb for once, but I had no idea if I liked the feeling. Was it better to feel pain or to feel nothing at all? I asked myself that all the time.

I got to the school building, surprised when I wasn't bothered by anybody. There was no Zayn, no Louis, no Drew. Everything was just so quiet. I did get stares though. Always so many judgmental stares. As if I had some disease that was contagious through the air. And it made me question whether or not they knew about the marks that littered my skin. The beatings I endured. But they couldn't. Only Zayn knew. He couldn't have told. Could he?

I jumped when I heard someone laugh loudly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I continued walking to my locker, walking by Zayn and some of his friends. I held my breath as I went, praying he wouldn't make a comment. I was surprised when he didn't, but I couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about as all of them burst into laughter.

I walked to my locker and put in my combination, sighing when I finished. I regretted going to another music class. Drew and Zayn would be there. There would be no protection, and I had no idea what to do. It'd be constant torture.

I opened up my locker and was confused when something fell out. I picked it up, seeing that it was the jacket Zayn bought me yesterday. I looked at the note that was on it, reading what it said. One word. Non-refundable.

I looked back over to where Zayn's group of friends were and say him looking right at me, no emotion on his face or in his eyes. He was always so good at going completely blank. I wasn't. I don't think I ever could be.

I put the jacket back into my locker, taking out the things I needed before slamming it shut and walking away. I didn't want my heart to flutter over every little thing he did anymore. He wasn't nice, and he didn't care about anyone but himself. I had to realize that, which wouldn't be hard if he would just beat me up again like he use to.

I started walking to art class, not wanting to think about him or any of the things he's done for me any longer. It was hard to do, though because as soon as I sat in my seat, he was walking through the door.

I looked down at my desk as he walked over to his seat, sitting down right beside me. It was completely silent between us, but I felt so tense. I was waiting for him to insult me again like he did last night. I was waiting for him to show how much he hated me like he usually did. Instead, all I got was a question.

"Are you gonna take the jacket home?" He asked. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't dare to turn.

"No. You're taking it back to the store or giving me the receipt so I can take it myself and give you your money back." I said, looking at the clock to see when class would start. Five minutes.

"I already tried to. Can't refund it." He said, and I chuckled.

"That's bull. You never tried. The mall closes at ten and opens after the school does. You never even went." I pointed out. "Just take the jacket back."

"No." He simply said, and I never replied. I sat there, waiting through the silence until class finally started. We were working on another clay sculpture. We were suppose to sculpt a landscape, so I decided to do a garden, but I was having trouble with the little flowers.

"Need help?" Zayn asked, and I remembered the last time he asked me that.

"No. I don't need any help." I said, trying my best to shapes out a little flower without breaking off the clay, and I groaned when I failed.

"Here." Zayn said, and I wanted to deny the wamrth that spread through me and the flutter of my heart as Zayn's hands wrapped around my own, shaping out the clay. He let go of my hands before grabbing a small scapel and forming a perfectly flower right next to the bench I shaped. "Perfect." He whispered, and I felt his breath on my neck, making me clear my throat.

He moved away, going back to working on his own clay. I looked over at what he was making. His clay seemes to be formed in waves like dirt or sand. There were archs coming over a walkway in the middle. The arcs seemed to be made of intertwined parts. It was beautiful so far, and I looked at Zayn, realizing that it meant something to him. Everything he did seemed to mean something to him. And that's when I realized, Zayn had a heart. Zayn cared about things. So why did he act like he didn't?  
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Music class was difficult to get through. I sat in the corner of the room alone, and I was having difficulty writing. I usually thought of my emotions, using the way I was feeling to write a song, but never have I ever been more confused about my emotions than I was in that moment.

My home wasn't a home. I loved my mum, and I loved the way she supported me, but my father would never accept me. Not even over time. He's already had nine years for that. Then there was school life.

I hated Zayn. I hated the things he did that hurt me, made me feel betrayed, but I hated how he made me feel warm inside even more. I hated how he made me have a crush on him. I hated how he stole my trust and then abandoned it. I hated how he smiled and was kind at the most surprising times, but I also liked it. I liked wearing his jackets. I liked it when he held me. I liked his genuine laugh. I even liked his stupid smirks. I liked when he called me princess. But I hated all of it as well.

I looked up when I felt someone standing over me to see Drew smirking down. "What? No more Mr. Bodyguard?" He teased, and I rolled my eyes.

"He was never my bodyguard." I said, thankful that the teacher never left the room because I don't think Zayn would have done a thing to stop Drew. After all, I told him not to pretend to care about me anymore.

"Ooh! Trouble in paradise." He laughed.

"Zayn isn't gay. That's why you both hate me isn't it? I'm gay, you're both not. I'm homosexual and you're homophobic. Why would there even be a paradise to have trouble in?" I mumbled, just wanting him to leave me alone and walk away already. He was really annoying.

"Well, even if he wasn't, he seems really fucking keen on protecting you." He said. "Makes you question things."

"No it doesn't. Because Zayn sees me as property, not a person. I'm something he owns and can cause pain to at any time. That's the only relationship there is. He raises hell, and I take the bruises." I said, looking over to see Zayn staring at the piano keys, fingers pressed to them but not playing anything yet.

"Could have fooled me." He laughed. "I'll see you another time. Figure it's been awhile, right, princess?" He mocked, and the only thing I thought about was how off the nickname sounded coming from him.

He walked off to go and write while I sat, still not able to write a thing. I told myself not to, but I peeked up at Zayn, seeing him in the same position. He sat, staring blankly at the keys below his fingertips, and I was curious as to what was taking place in his mind. What was he thinking about? Why was he so lost in thought?

Suddenly, his eyes snapped up to look at me, and I quickly looked back down, pretending to write in my notebook. I was afraid to look up again, not knowing if he was still looking or not, so I waited a while. I waited a minute or two before peeking up at him again, seeing a small, barely noticeable smile appear on his face as he looked away from me, looking back down at the piano and beginning to play.

It was a different tune than the last time. This one seemed lighter, happier, while the other seemed more emotional and heavy. It also seemed as if Zayn was making up the keys as he went. He looked back and forth, finding the next key and playing it perfectly. I listened to the tune. A lovely, higher pitched sound, and I thought of words to match.

I began writing, scribbling down music notes as I did to remember the ones Zayn played. And it became a song about my emotions at that moment. Anger and confusion about whether or not I liked Zayn. And I looked up at him as he finished playing before I turned away again, waiting for class to finish.  
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It was lunch time, and I didn't plan on going to the lunch room. I walked out of music, seeing Drew waiting outside of the classroom. I froze in my spot, knowing that he wouldn't give me mercy. He's probably waited a while to be able to hurt me again.

I was pushed to continue walking though, and I looked to see Zayn walking beside me with one hand pressed to my back. "What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Trying to save you. Don't think you want another beating so soon, do you?" He asked, and I turned to him in anger. 

"I told you to leave me the hell alone. Why do you care? You say you don't, then you say you do a little, and you're so fucking frustrating, Zayn!" I snapped at him. He watched me silently and expressionless.

"Maybe that's because I'm terrified of what I want." He whispered, and I was beyond confused.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked, seeing Zayn smirk again, and I was done with the conversation.

"Whatever. Just leave me alone." I begged before turning around and walking away. I went to the back of the building, where I knew no one would bother me. I just wanted to be left alone.

I sat against the fence, looking at the flowers that were growing in the grass. One seemed smaller than the rest, as if it was struggling for attention from the sun. I lifted it up a bit, whispering to it. "Hang in there, little guy."

I jumped when I heard a voice behind me, wincing as I felt pain travel through me at the sudden jerk. "Thought you'd be here." Louis said, walking up to me with his tray of food.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as he sat down beside me and leaned against the fence as well.

"Wanted to say thank you. You know, for not telling Zayn my secret." He said, and I only nodded, looking down at the flower again. "Why weren't you at the table? Zayn seems... I don't know... upset?" He said before laughing and shaking his head. "God, I never thought I'd say that about Zayn. The only word to describe him is cocky."

"Then why are you his friend?" I asked, and he looked at me with a small smile.

"Wanna know a secret?" He asked, and I just shrugged, not in the mood to act friendly. "When I first met Zayn, he was the quietest kid ever. Didn't even want to speak up when the teacher called on him." He said, and I remembered that in grade school. Zayn minded his own business, and I thought he was so cool.

"Well, I invited him to a sleepover, just him and I because our mums were friends. He opened up more, and I guess I admired how smart he was. He was also very caring." He said.

"Zayn?" I questioned, making Louis laugh again and nod.

"Yeah. I remember how we were playing with toys at the park one time and he crashed my helicopter into a tree. Cried for nearly an hour saying that it was all his fault and he broke it. He was really sensitive, you know? And now... I don't know what happened, but he began to change. I still stick by him though because I know the real Zayn. And... I know this is probably just bullshit to you, but I'm sorry for the way I treated you." He said, and I was shocked he was even apologizing. Nobody has ever apologized to me before. Not about hurting me that way.

"I wanted Zayn's approval. I wanted to keep my best friend, but now that I think about it, do I want to be friends with someone who despises what I really am? Because... I honestly think I'm in love with Harry. Is that insane?" He asked, and I couldn't help but smile. Love was such a beautiful thing to me.

"Depends. How long has it been since you've met him?" I asked.

"Two years. Two years since I spilled hot tea all over him." He said, and I laughed. "Hey, it was my first job and there were a lot of orders that day." He defended.

"No. That's not so crazy then." I said, surprisingly feeling at ease with Louis right now. "One year, now that's another story." I joked, and he laughed. Then silence fell over us before Louis spoke again.

"Nobody comes back here, do they?" He asked, and I shook my head.

"That's why I like it. I can escape. Get away from all of the hate." I said, and Louis frowned.

"I'm really sorry, Liam. I'm a hypocritic asshole."

"At least you admit it." I shrugged again. Truth was, I didn't know if I was ready to forgive Louis yet, but I think I could in time. After all, he apologized, and that's more than I'll ever get from my dad, or Drew, or even Zayn.

"Where's your food at? I don't think I've ever seen you eat." He said, and I shrugged again. That seemed to be the only thing I could do.

"I eat a big breakfast." I lied. More like I don't eat breakfast at all.

"Well, I'm starving and Zayn might need me for something. See you later, Li." He said, shortening my name, and it felt like something friends would do. Could I be friends with Louis?

I only waved as he walked away, and then I sighed as I leaned against the fence again. I closed my eyes, finding it funnt how much people could change. What happened to the sweet, sensitive side of Zayn? It had to still be there. It couldn't just go away.

Then again, I think I've already seen it.

"Maybe that's because I'm terrified of what I want." What did he mean by that?


	13. Bulwark

I couldn't concentrate on anything. I reread the question on my history homework twelve times, trying to pay attention to what it was asking, but I kept thinking about the events of the day. The jacket. Louis' story. What Zayn said. It kept replaying over and over again in my mind.

"Maybe that's because I'm terrified of what I want."

What did he want? And what could possibly be that terrifying? I mean, I was terrified of what I wanted. I was terrified of how much I liked Zayn, even if he would never even think twice about me. But that was completely different.

I looked over at the end of my bed where I threw down the jacket, and couldn't help but set my homework aside to reach for it. I smelled it, but it didn't have Zayn's scent lingering on it. And, sure, it was warm, but a different kind of warm. It sickened me how much I wanted the old jacket again. Or even the leather one that ran too far down my body and arms.

I jumped as I heard a knock on the window, rolling my eyes as I saw Zayn there. I pushed the jacket underneath my pillow and got off of my bed, unlocking the window and lifting it up.

"Why are you here? What part of 'leave me alone' do you not understand?" I asked.

"What part of 'I'm not leaving you alone ever' do you not understand?" He shot back. "Now, move back." He said, and I shook my head.

"No. This is my house, and I said to stop coming over. I hate you for letting me trust you, and I just want to finish my homework." I complained, going to continue but the words were caught in my throat as Zayn hoisted himself up, our faces coming into close contact.

"Care to move now?" He smirked, and I moved away, looking down to hide my blush because the only thing I could imagine when he was that close was our lips touching. I've never wanted to kiss someone that way.

He climbed into my room as I sat back on my bed, picking up my history book and looking at the worksheet again. I was trying to distract myself from him but his presence was hard to ignore when he climbed onto my bed, his face right in front of mine as I looked up.

"I see you kept the jacket, princess." He smirked, reaching under my pillow and pulling it out, holding it up to me.

"You didn't leave me a choice. Not like I'm gonna wear it." I said, and he looked at me with a serious expression.

"Yes you are." He announced, and it was something about the way he said it that made my heart stop. I looked him in the eyes, amazed by how gorgeous they were. They were a light brown that shone in the bit of light streaming through my window. They had little gold-like specks in them, and they were better than any sunset.

I gulped as his eyes traveled down my face. My eyes followed along until I was staring at his lips. His were a deeper pink than mine were. They seemed to be rougher than mine as well, but I wanted nothing more than to press my own to his.

My breath hitched as he dropped the jacket down and lifted his hand up to my cheek. I flinched at the gentle touch, not feeling anything so soft and caring in so long. It's only been fists and slaps, gashes and whips, kicks and grabs. Never has anyone been this gentle, and I knew I should look away, but I couldn't. Especially not when he bit down on his lip.

I felt his breath on my lips, and I wanted this more than I've wanted anything in my life, but it wasn't suppose to happen.

The front door opened, and I froze, my eyes flashing to Zayn's in fear. I held my breath, feeling Zayn's hand fall to my thigh and squeeze as if in reassurance. Finally, I sighed in relief as I heard my mum's voice.

"Liam, what do you want for dinner, dear?" She asked, making her way to my room, and I pushed Zayn away, pointing to the window, but it was too late because she threw my door opened, looking a bit shocked before she smiled kindly.

"Oh, hello. You must be Liam's friend. Can I just tell you how thankful I am that someone cared enough to keep my baby warm." She gushed, and I groaned.

"Mum, please." I begged. I just wanted her to leave. I didn't even want her to meet Zayn. Especially not when he was nothing but a major asshole to me. Especially not after what he said to me last night.

"Oh hush, Liam. What's your name, love?" She asked, walking over and holding her hand out to Zayn.

"Zayn. And you're very welcome. I hope you don't mind me being here uninvited." He spoke politely; how he always did around adults. It sickened me that my mum was now being manipulated by his sweet and kind act. It was all lies.

"No, not at all. Liam's never had a friend over before. It should be good for him. You're welcome here anytime, Zayn. Would you like to stay for dinner? You can meet my husband if you'd like." She offered, and I quickly stood up, knocking my papers off of the bed.

"No. Mum, no. Please can you just leave us alone for a few minutes?" I begged, and she looked at me awhile, reading my expression as I pleaded for her to listen. She nodded, giving me a look that said we would talk later, and I nodded in agreement.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Zayn. Thanks again. So much." She smiled before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind her. I sighed in relief, feeling so tired and done with everything. I knelt down, picking up all of the papers I dropped, looking up when Zayn kneeled down to help me.

"She was nice." Zayn stated, breaking the silence. He handed me all of the papers he picked up, and I stood up abruptly.

"You need to leave now." I deadpanned.

"Why? Your mum seems to like me." He pointed out, and I threw the papers onto the bed, hearing a satisfying whack come from them as they hit the textbook.

"Because she thinks this is the real you, which it isn't. This is the tone you use to get adults to like you. You try to act all kind and proper when, in reality, you're really as self-absorbed shithead who screwed me over with his lies!" I ranted, seeing Zayn frown.

"You don't know the real me, Liam." He said lowly, and I scoffed, feeling frustration beyond extent.

"Really? Than what is the real you, huh? Because you bought me a damn jacket only to deny you even did, then you claim to be my protector for your own selfish reasons, then you find out my darkest secret that you can constantly dangle over my head. And do you realize how scary it is to hear others laugh and think it's because they know about your home situation?" I continued.

"Liam, I would never tell anyone about your-" Zayn tried to say, but I wasn't finished yet.

"And then you suddenly care about whether I'm cold or not, telling me a jacket is nonrefundable for reasons I know nothing of! And then you help me in art class, continue to act like my damn bodyguard, and now you make me lie to my mum about basically being your friend! Do you have any idea how fucking confusing you are? And I know I don't know anything about your life, but everytime I think you're going to divulge something, you close right back up and say that it's none of my business and brush it aside. If you wanted people to know the real you, you'd fucking tell them things!" I raged.

"It's not that simple." He said.

"Yes it is! It is when you actually try. But, hell, I don't even know why I want to know. I guess because I wanted to believe there was more to you than just a typical school bully. For all I know, you're probably the one that's struggling with his sexuality problems, not me." I said, and his eyes turned cold.

"I'm not struggling with anything but keeping you in line." He seethed, and I rose my eyebrow up.

"Oh really? So I guess you get as close to Louis as you were to me five minutes ago-" I was going to continue, but I let out a little shriek as I was pushed against the wall, hearing Zayn growl.

"I'm not fucking gay!" He said, his eyes so full of anger and hatred, but they softened as I whimpered and winced in pain. "Shit, Liam. I forgot about your-"

"Get the hell out of my room. Get out of my house. Get out of my life. Just go back to beating me and never talking to me beyond your insults and threats." I snarled, and I was surprised when he listened.

He slowly let go of my arms, releasing me from his hold, and I was breathing heavily, feeling so tense. He nodded, walking over to my bedroom door. I walked behind him to the front door, opening it and closing it behind him harshly.

"Oh, did Zayn leave already? He seemed lovely." My mum voiced from behind me as I leaned my forehead against the door.

"Yeah. Seemed." I whispered before turning away from her and walking back to my room. "I'm not hungry. I ate out with Zayn." I lied, just really not in the mood for anything. My mum believed it. She wanted to believe things could work out. Just like I did. I guess that's where I got it from. Sadly, that never happened.  
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My mum and dad stopped laughing when a phone rang. It was nearly twelve o'clock, and maybe I should be asleep, but I just couldn't do it. I just stared at the ceiling before my eyes drifted to my dream catcher.

Why didn't they make real nightmares disappear? Why did it only have to be the ones where my eyes were closed? And was it only my nightmares it was sucking away? What if it stole all of my ambitions with it?

I heard footsteps coming down the hall as my mum's voice was heard talking on the phone in the distance. My door opened, and my dad looked at me with so much disgust. I would never get used to that look.

"You're still up? Good." He said, leaning against the door frame. "Your mum told me about your little friend being here today." He announced, and I knew he was pissed. More than he's ever been. "She's happy you found a friend, but nobody could be your friend. That boy's probably using you like the filthy slut you are. You sicken me." He said, and I never moved from the bed.

I took every word, closing my eyes as I felt tears building up because I sickened myself. I knew my dad hated me more than anybody else, but I hated myself more. I hated myself for not being careful with Zayn being in the house. And now my dad knows. There was no use in telling him Zayn wasn't gay. He wouldn't believe it.

"Honey, I've got to go down to work for a bit. The night shift crew is having trouble finding some files." My mum yelled, and I sighed, a tear falling because I knew I was doomed with my dad.

"Tell Liam I love him." She yelled, and my dad had a smirk in his voice as he yelled back.

"Oh, I will." He looked at me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me up. "I'm going to say goodbye to your mother, and you're going to wait here for your orders. Got it?" He asked, and I didn't say a thing. He just pushed me back and left my room, closing the door behind him, and I sighed, letting out heavy tears and doing something I never thought I would do.

I got up, locking my bedroom door shut and pushing my dresser in front of it, waiting in terror for my dad to find out that I was disobeying him. That I was hiding away from him.

I let out a small scream as there was a tap on my window. I turned, raising my eyebrow as I saw Zayn there. I unlocked it and lifted it up, automatically begging to him.

"You can't be here right now. You need to leave, Zayn. Please." I begged, but he only climbed up and into my room, laughing as he landed on the ground, and I took a good look at him.

His hair was disheveled, his eyes were red-rimmed, he was covered in perspiration, and he couldn't seem to focus or balance well. He was drunk.

"Zayn, listen to me." I begged, crouching beside him and holding onto his arms. "You need to leave." I spoke slowly, trying to make him understand the danger we were both in right now.

"I missed you." He replied instead, and I didn't like that my heart skipped a beat at his slurred words. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I always hurt you." He said, looking directly at me.

"Why are you here, Zayn? And why are you drunk?" I questioned.

"Louis and I went clubbing!" He cheered, and I shushed him. "He left with a friend, and I missed my princess. I was sad. Because my princess was mad at me. So I drank away the pain." He explained, reaching out for my face, but I pulled away as I heard the doorknob jiggle.

I held my breath as my dad figurdes out what I did. "Liam if you don't open this goddamn door I'll fucking kill you!" He yelled, banging on it and kicking at it. The dresser shook, and that seemed to scare Zayn into a more sober state because his eyes held understanding.

"Your dad?" He asked, but he already knew. "Is it because I was here?" He questioned, and I nodded, my eyes never leaving the door and dresser that shook and rattled as my dad yelled out threats and warnings.

I was shaking all over, terrified beyond compare. I just knew my body couldn't endure another beating, and I was so tired of it all. I felt Zayn grab my hand as he sat up, and I looked at him with scared eyes.

"It's okay. We can leave. We can go out of the window. You can... you can come to my house." He offered, and I shook my head. I was too frozen in fear to do anything.

"I c-can't." I stuttered out. It'll only be worse if he gets through and sees me gone. It'll only be worse." I cried, tears dripping down my face. I have never been this scared before. Never in all of my life. In all of the situations my father has put me in. Maybe it was because someone else was in danger as well now. Someone I liked more than I should.

"Yes, you can. We can go, Liam. We can just-"

"You can go. And leave me alone." I said, feeling myself panic at the thought of him leaving, but it was dangerous for him to stay here.

I made my way back to my bed on shaky legs, crawling under the covers as the door rattled and shook with my dad's anger. "When I get in there you're dead!" He roared, and I cried onto the sheets, a lump in my throat of fear and panic.

I felt Zayn get onto the bed as well, and I felt his forehead pressed to mine. "I'm not leaving you here. Not alone." He said, and I was shocked, crying harder when his arms wrapped around me to comfort me.

I hid my face in his chest as my dad continued on his raging. I inhaled his scent, trying to find the same peace and safety I felt within his jackets, and I smelled the familiar leather, gripping onto it. I tensed up a bit as I felt him kiss my head, a gesture that was too sweet to be friendly.

"It's okay. Don't cry. You're too pretty to cry, princess." He comforted, but it made it worse. Because while my dad was playing with my fear, Zayn was playing with my heart, and I had no clue which was more terrifying.

"Just go sleep, love." He whispered, and I shook my head, much too worried to even think about sleep.

"It's okay, Liam. I've got you. I'm right here, and I'm not leaving. Just sleep, princess." He whispered, playing softly with my hair, and it managed to calm me down.

My eyes felt droopy and heavy as Zayn continued to whisper words of comfort to me, and somewhere along the night, I think the banging of the door stopped but Zayn stayed.

I closed my eyes, feeling his hold tighten around me. And I felt safe. But not only safe, I felt cared for. Cared for by Zayn. And I let my emotions be at that moment. I let my heart soar the way it did and my skin tingle in warm and security. I let it all be, and I fell asleep in Zayn's arms.


	14. Deflect

I woke up to the sound of the window opening, and I squinted my eyes as I looked over, seeing Zayn standing by it, a cold breeze coming into the room that made me shiver a bit.

"Where are you going?" I asked, my voice sounding tired and rough from my endless crying. I looked over at my door, the dresser still blocking the way, and I remembered everything from last night. The banging on the door, Zayn being drunk, how he called me his princess, how he stayed with me, how he held me, the kiss upon my head, and falling asleep, feeling safe and wanted for once. And a fear overcame me. A fear that it was all just an illusion.

"We have school today. Just like any other day." He said, but he never looked at me. I climbed out of bed, going over to my dresser and pushing it aside. I unlocked the door and opened it, about to walk out, but it was pushed shut again as Zayn grabbed my arm.

"What are you doing?" He asked, and I thought I heard fear in his voice. What was Zayn afraid of?

"Checking to see if my parents are awake. I leave early. You know... to avoid my dad. Especially after last night." I mumbled near the end, not even sure if Zayn would want to talk about last night, but I did. It was the first time I've felt that way. It was the first time I felt protected and assured that I wasn't alone.

"I'll check. You just get ready." He said, about to open the door, but I held it closed, looking at him in bewilderment.

"Are you kidding? If you check and my dad is up, all hell will be raised, Zayn. Do you have any idea what he would do if he-"

I was silenced when he leaned in, resting his forehead again mine and closed his eyes tightly. I saw his jaw clench, and he let out a sigh before looking me in the eyes and speaking in a voice that held finality. "I'm checking. Get dressed, princess."

I nodded, not being able to think of anything else to do. He opened the door, walking out into the hall, and I hesitated before walking over to my closet and picking out an outfit. A simple black jeans and white shirt would suffice. I undressed, pulling on new boxers before putting on my jeans. I grabbed my shirt, about to pull it over my head when Zayn walked back in.

"The house is clear. I'm guessing your parents are still knocked out." He said, looking over at me. I became insecure as his eyes trailed my body, seeing all of the damage done to it. The skin was so discolored and scarred. It was hideous, and I quickly pulled on my shirt, clearing my throat as I finished.

"Thanks." I said, seeing him nod and walk over to sit in the bed. "For everything." I continued, implying that I was thankful for last night. I was thankful he stayed, and I wanted to ask why he did, but I figured he would shut me out. He did that a lot.

"I didn't do anything." He said, looking away from me, but I saw a smile on his face as he reached for the jacket, standing up and walking toward me. "It's pretty cold outside." He said, holding the jacket open for me.

I was about to grab it from him to put it on, but he rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Turn around." It wasn't an order. It was a request. And that was a first.

I turned around, holding my arm out as Zayn began to slip the jacket sleeve onto my arm before doing the same to the other side, and I felt my cheeks heat up and my skin tingle as I felt his fingers run across the back of my neck. He walked around me and zipped up my jacket before trailing his eyes up to mine.

"Why?" I asked quietly. I looked into his eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of any possible emotion, and it terrified me when I saw caring.

"Why?" He questioned, and I continued.

"Why did you stay last night?"

"Because you wouldn't leave." He answered, walking away and picking up the pair of my shoes I left by my bed. He held them up to me, and I grabbed them from his hands.

"But you could have left. Why did you care? Why were you drunk? Why show up at my window when it was nearly midnight?" I interrogated. I felt like I needed to know. I needed to understand Zayn. It was turning into an obsession -- trying to figure out who he was.

"I was drunk because I drank alcohol. I came here because it was the closest place to the clubbing place we went to. And I care because I... I don't care." He said in a whisper, stopping his original train of thought.

"You do. You act like you don't, but I know you do. You care a bit. You said so yourself." I said, and Zayn shook his head, smirking a bit.

"Well I lied. I do that a lot."

"So I guess it's also a lie that you use to be a sweet and sensitive child that cried over a broken helicopter?" I revealed, crossing my arms in anger.

"Did Louis tell you that? Because it's a lie. You knew me back then-"

"I knew you as well as I know you now." I said with a sigh. "Which isn't much."

"Good. Keep it that way. Now come on. We have to get to school, and I have to get my stuff from home." I put my shoes on and followed him out of my house, not giving up on the personal mission I set. I was going to find out who the real Zayn was.  
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"Good to see you back, Liam. Glad to see you feel better." Our history teacher said as soon as class started. I forgot about the whole skipping thing, and, for once, I was thankful that my dad lied about my well-being.

Her attention turned to Zayn as she frowned. "I see you're able to attend my class today, Zayn. Was it not interesting enough to attend last class?" She questioned, and Zayn smiled politely.

"Of course it was. Your class is one of my favorites. I had a slip up, but I've learned my lesson. My... mum really had it out with me about it. It won't happen again." He said, always knowing what to say. She smiled and nodded, taking his word for it.

It always amazed me how Zayn knew exactly what to say at all times. To adults at least. To anyone else but me it seemed. Why was that? Why didhe get thrown off and angry whenever I asked a simple question that would get a skillfully crafted reply for anyone else? Was I just not worth the effort?

I sat through both classes wondering the sane exact thing. Why did it seem so easy for Zayn to conjure up stories and lies to get his way out of any situation; to worm his way out if any question? Could it be that it was hard for him to lie to me? Or was that who Zayn really was? Someone who pushed people away so that they couldn't find the clues hidden in his words.

I followed Zayn to lunch, knowing that he wanted me to sit at his table again, and I didn't think it would be so bad. I figured Louis and I could talk. Maybe not about his personal life, but there could be something we both liked that we could talk about. Something other than boys.

"Heard you two were missing school two days ago. Something I didn't know until this morning." I heard Drew say, and I tensed up, turning to see him smirking behind me.

"What do you want?" Zayn growled, pulling me behind him and looking at Drew with a challenging glare. I was thankful that the halls were emptying as kids hurried to lunch because I didn't want anyone seeing how I basically depended on Zayn.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Just interested in the fact that you ditched together only to come back ignoring each other. What? Did you apologize to the princess last night, Zayn?" He smirked, and Zayn balled up his fists.

"Don't call him that." He demanded. "And if you're implying what I think you are, you need to shut the hell up if you know what's good for you." He promised. Zayn never gave out threats because threats implied that they may not be fulfilled. No, he gave out promises because he would always follow through.

"I'm just saying that it's cute how much you like him." Drew smirked, and I stopped breathing for a second, thinking he was talking to me, thinking he knew how I felt about Zayn, but I realize it was directed at Zayn. It was a lie to mess with him and get him riled up. And it worked.

"I'm not fucking gay!" Zayn said, walking toward Drew, who held his hands up in a surrender and stepped backward a bit.

"Woah there. Whatever you say, man. See you later, Liam. When your protector isn't around." He winked, walking down the hall and leaving us alone.

I was afraid to look at Zayn. I didn't want to see how angry he was. I knew his sexuality was a topic he didn't even want other people questioning, and I didn't want to be the one his anger was directed at. Not when he was so nice last night and this morning.

He said nothing, surprisingly. He just continued walking, and I followed before he stopped abruptly and turned to me. "Why are you following me?" He snapped, and I shrunk back a bit.

"B-because y-you said I was s-suppose to sit at your table." I stuttered. It was the first time I've stuttered toward Zayn in a while. I was usually too angry or confused to stutter, but now there was pure hatred in his eyes. Of course he hated me. Why did I let drunken lies make me believe anything more?

"I don't give a damn what you do. The last thing I need is for people to think we're something because you mean nothing to me." He raged, and that hurt. It seemed like everytime Zayn gave me hope or something to hold on to, he took it away again. It was a new example of building up just to break it down.

He sighed soon after what he said. "Not in that way at least." He mumbled. I didn't know what to say, so I turned, about to walk away when I felt Zayn's hand reach out to mine, pulling me back.

"I do care about you, Liam." He confessef, and I scoffed, feeling hurt by his words still. Damn him for making me like him so much.

"No you don't. You care about your reputation and your sexuality." I pointed out. "But I'm use to not being cared about. You didn't have to stay with me last night. I probably shouldn't have even hid away from my dad. Because at the end of the day, my life is nothing but bullies and bruises." I declared before walking away.

I walked to the back of the school, sitting against the fence. I felt like crying. It was a worse feeling than the betrayal from Drew. Because Zayn knew about my dad, but he stayed last night, offering me more than I've ever had before. But he pushed me away again. I should be the one pushing him away if anything. I should be the one angry and upset, and I was beyond belief.

I set my things down and sat in silence, hating every little thing right now. I hated my feelings the most. Why did I have to like a person who did nothing but torture and bully me for years? I guess I was just that fucked up.

I took off the jacket and threw it beside me, looking at it as I remembered how carefully Zayn put it on me this morning. He was so sweet and his touch was so gentle. And I remembered how our lips almost touched yesterday afternoon. I wanted it more than air, but I was only kidding myself. He'd probably pull away before I could kiss him and laugh about how desperate I was.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down and relax, but nothing felt right. There was too much to worry about. I didn't know what would happen when I went home. I hoped my dad was out late, but the odds were low. And I was scared. Not that I would tell anyone that.

I opened my eyes as I heard footsteps coming toward me. I looked up to see Louis, letting out a breath because I was thankful it wasn't Drew. I was maybe even thankful that it wasn't Zayn.

"Thought you'd be here. Why don't you eat inside?" He asked, walking over to me and looking down at me.

"Why would I? I'd only sit in a corner alone and do my best to ignore the constant hate evryone sent me." I said. It was only the truth.

"Because you have me now." He said, and I rose my eyebrow.

"Why would you talk to me in front of Zayn? In front of everyone? I'm the gay kid who everyone hates. Always have been for years. You'd hurt your own reputation by talking to me." I pointed out.

"True." He began. "But I can take care of myself, and who would dare to mess with Zayn's best friend?"

"Why do you really want me to sit with you guys?" I asked. There had to be some other reason. Louis couldn't just be nice to me for that simple purpose.

"Because... you did something nice for me. Guess I should repay you for that. And... I want to be a better person." He admitted. "For Harry. He deserves to know that the real me is who he knows. Not the homophobic bully."

"Wow. You really love him. Have you told him?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"I could never. Especially if he didn't feel the same way." He said, and silence fell between us as Louis looked away from me. I was going to say something to appease his worries, but he only continued. "Anyway, do you really want to sit alone every day?"

Did I? No. I was afraid of being alone. It was just the only way I could survive. But Louis was offering. And I could accept that, couldn't I?

I did. I got up, walking beside Louis all the way to the lunch room, and I sat at the end of the table beside Louis. I felt Zayn's eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look at him. He was probably busy with his group of friends anyway.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" Louis asked, and I had no idea what to bring up. I didn't know Louis. I thought he was just another homophobic bully, but he was closeted. He was scared to come out. I understood that part of it. But we couldn't talk about that here.

"Um, what's your favorite color?" I asked, and Louis threw his head back in laughter, making Zayn look over at us in curiosity.

"That's the most boring conversation starter ever." He laughed. "But... um, green I guess." He admitted. "You?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. I've never thought about it. I mean, colors are just that... plain colors. None of them are really different. None of them really held any menaing behind them to me. Maybe grey." I said.

Louis furrowed his eyebrows as he ate a fry from his lunch tray. "Why grey?"

"I don't know. I guess because white seems so pure and black seems so tainted and evil. I feel like people are grey. Everyone has light and dark in them. Everyone can be good, but they can also be evil. We're not fully pure, but we're not completely bad." I said, seeing that Louis was looking at me in amazement and I took a chance, glancing over at Zayn and seeing him still staring at me. I looked away and scratched my neck. "That's what I want to believe, anyway."

"That's very insightful." Louis said. "Grey doesn't seem so bad now." He chuckled, and I couldn't help but smile. I was glad Louis was easy to talk to and didn't make fun of my views on things. Sure, I thought about a lot of things deeply, but I was always afraid to share those thoughts aloud.

"Why green?" I asked him, curious about his reasoning. Most people who liked green liked nature. Trees or grass or flowers. I didn't think of Louis as that person though.

"I could tell you," He began, smiling brightly at whatever thought was in his head that he associated with the color, "but then everyone else would hear as well." He said, and I nodded, knowing it had to do with the part of his life he tried to keep hidden from his 'friends'.

"Wasn't such a bad conversation starter after all, now was it?" I asked, and Louis laughed, shaking his head.

"Guess not. Most people just say they like red because it represents love or yellow because of the sun. I want to slap those people." He admitted.

"Well, maybe they like red because they long for love. Not simply because it represents it. And maybe yellow represents a light they long for in their life. Maybe yellow reminds them of a person they hold near to their hearts. Because they are brighter than the sun could ever be to them." I said, and Louis shook his head, throwing his arms in the air.

"How do you do that? Take something so simple and make it so complex and meaningful?" He asked.

"I don't know. I guess when you spend so much time alone, you pray for everything to have a meaning or a purpose. Because what are people without purpose?" I pointed out, and Louis smiled kindly at me before the guy beside him tapped him on the shoulder, calling his name.

He held up his finger to me, and I nodded, waiting patiently as he turned to converse with the guy. And I was back to my thoughts again.

I didn't really mean to say what were people without purpose. Some people didn't need a purpose to do what they do. I needed one though. I longed for one. I prayed for one. Something to make me want to hold on. Or someone.

What was I without purpose?


	15. Secrets

I walked through my front door carefully, looking around and listening for either of my parents. My whole body was shaking at the thought of my dad coming home. I was terrified, there was no hiding that. I just hope my mum came home early and stayed all night. There was no telling how he would hurt me.

As soon as I realized the coast was clear, I locked the front door and made my way to my room. I threw my backpack in the corner, throwing the jacket along with it. I wouldn't say today was a bad day. I did get to know a few things about Louis, and I was thankful that he actually spoke to me instead of ignoring me the whole time. Sure, the other guys at the table gave me funny looks and ignored my existence, but that didn't stop Louis.

I was barely going to sit on my bed when there was a tap on my window. I looked over, seeing Zayn there, and I rolled my eyes, unlocking the window before sitting on my bed. I watched as he opened it climbed into my room.

"What?" I asked as soon as he was fully inside of my room. He stood there silently staring, and I sighed, laying back on my bed. "What do you want, Zayn? If you're going to give me a speech about how I shouldn't have eaten lunch at your table, I have two things to say to that. One, I didn't eat, and two, Louis invited me." I said.

"Yeah. Seems like you and Louis are getting pretty close, don't you think?" He asked, and I sat back up, looking at him in a bit of anger.

"What? I can't talk to Louis now or something? I only know a handful of things about him. Way more than I know about you, but I actually liked talking to him today. It's not like I expected to, and it's not like I planned to be all buddy-buddy with him. He's just nice." I admitted. Behind the bully facade, Louis was a decent person, and it made me wonder how Zayn was under his facade.

"So you like Louis?" Zayn asked through his teeth. "Because he won't talk to you again if he knew about your little fucking feelings for him." He threatened, and I wanted to laugh because he was way off, but I held it in.

"I don't like Louis that way." I said. "Do you seriously think that just because I'm gay that I like any guy who is nice to me?"

He didn't reply. He took a deep breath before asking "Who do you like?"

I looked at him with my eyebrow raised. Was he joking? Why would I tell him who I liked? Even if it wasn't him I liked, I would never tell him any way. "Nobody." I mumbled, looking down at my shoes, realizing I still had to take them off. So that's what I did.

"Nobody." Zayn scoffed, and I ignored that as I took off my shoes and placed them at the foot of my bed. "Bullshit."

"Okay then. Who do you like?" I shot back, seeing the anger dissolve from his face as he looked me in the eyes before looking down and messing with the cuffs of his jacket. The leather had small indents from when I had to roll the sleeves up to fit them.

"Someone." He said, and I was surprised by that. I didn't think it was possible for Zayn to like anyone; not that way. And I won't lie, it hurt a bit. It hurt to know how much I liked him only for him to confess that he liked someone else. Why couldn't I just like girls?

"Great. Then go spend time with them and leave me alone." I spat, getting tired of his back and forth act. I was so overly confused about his kindness. One second he was nice and the next he was back to how he's always been.

"Do you think I would be here if I didn't want to be?" He asked, and I saw sincerity in his eyes, but I was tired of trying to figure out his constant mood swings.

"Why do you want to be here, Zayn?" I asked, seeing him raise an eyebrow in confusion. "I mean, according to you, I'm nothing. You've said it yourself. And I'm so tired of your bullshit kind act. You sit with me all night while my dad bangs on my fucking door, threatening to kill me, and you hold me and tell me not to cry. You sit there, saying you missed me and calling me pretty when you know I hate lies. And then you tell me it was nothing and that I am nothing. I am sick and tired of your back and forth!" I said.

"I was nice to you that night because you needed that." He said, and I was even more pissed off now.

"Not from you! I don't need charity and pity, Zayn. And I don't need people pretending to care about me when I don't even really care about me." I said, seeing Zayn's jaw clench, but I didn't care if my yelling made him angry.

"Don't say that." He gritted out, and I was even more confused now.

"What? That I don't care if I don't see the sun come up tomorrow? Because I have nothing, okay? My dad hates that I exsist; I love my mum to death, but she's so oblivious and loves him; Louis' being nice now, but I have no idea if he'll be the same in the future. The last time I trusted someone, both of the times, they screwed me over." I said, and Zayn looked at me with intensity. "And I get bullied for being who I am. Why should I care about anything anymore? I have nothing." I said, closing my eyes for a second so I wouldn't cry. I didn't want to cry in front of Zayn. Not again.

I felt his fingers grab onto my wrist, and I opened my eyes, seeing him standing right in front of me. He was being so careful, and this was the Zayn that I wanted to believe in. The one who was currently lifting his hand to lightly touch my cheek, the touch so fleeting it was almost never there. And I fought against the way my eyes wanted to flutter shut.

Our faces were close, and I saw a new emotion in his eyes. I don't really know how to define ir. Determination? Something close to it. And I remembered that I was suppose to be mad at him.

I pushed him away and stood up. "See? This is what I mean! You act like I'm suppose to be the most vile thing on the face of the earth and then you get all touchy-feely." I said. "I'm tired of your crap. So can you just please go back to hurting me? Just fucking hit me because it hurts less than having you play my emotions like a damn piano." I hissed.

He didn't get mad. He held that same look in his eyes-- an almost longing look in them. And he came into my personal space again, looking me in the eyes as I felt his breath on my face. I resisted the urge to look at his lips, trying my best to resist the temptation.

"Remember when I said I was afraid of what I wanted?" He asked, and I nodded, confused on why he was bringing that up.

"You said you were terrified." I whispered, remembering his exact words. They seemed to haunt me. It was a piece of the puzzle to who Zayn really was, and I couldn't find it in myself to be mad when I felt as if I was so close to finally getting some kind of answer from him.

He gave a small chuckle as he smiled and nodded. "Yeah. I am terrified." He admitted.

"Why?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't shut me out and tell me to mind my own business.

"Because I want it so much, and I'm ruining it with my fear." He said.

"What do you want?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know or not.

Zayn smiled again, an adoring smile, and then it dropped from his face as he looked me in the eyes. He bit his lip and I lost the fight against myself as my eyes trailed down to his lips in longing.

"Do you really want to know?" He whispered, our lips only a few centimeters apart. Our foreheads were touching, our noses were touching, and Zayn was so beautiful this close. But now I was afraid. Afraid that he would break this moment to laugh at how stupid I was for falling for it.

"No." I said, fewling my heart beat pick up as his hands came up to my cheeks, and then I felt his lips gently touching mine, not kissing, but touching, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Too bad." He said, and then his lips were pressed to mine, moving in a slow and careful rhythm. And his lips were softer than I thought they would be. My heart seemes to be on overdrive and my lips seemed to have a mind of their own, moving against his in a desperate sort of motion.

I felt his hand move to my waist before he began to walk forward, making me fall back on my bed, but my mind seemed to preoccupied by his lips to worry about the danger of my parents coming home. I wanted this so much, and I forgot about my worry.

Zayn broke away, and I shut my eyes tightly, ready for him to hit me and laugh at me, waiting for him to say that he wasn't gay and that I was disgusting. I waited for him to wipe his mouth and cuss at me for kissing him, but all I felt was his fingers play with my hair as he whispered to me.

"Where are you're parents?" He asked, and I opened my eyes slowly, feeling breathless as I saw all of the care that was in his eyes.

"Working." I said, and he smiled slightly.

"This." He declared, and I was confused. "This is what I'm afraid of." He said, pressing his lips back against mine before I could respond. And it finally dawned on me. Zayn liked me. But how was that possible?

He hurt me. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He hurt me in every single aspect of the word. I had bruises on my body because of him. I hated my life because of him. I hated myself.

I pushed him away, sitting up in bed before I felt the tears running down my face. I wiped them away quickly, but they were replaced by more.

"What's wrong?" Zayn asked in worry. "Liam, I'm sorry if I-"

"No." I cried. "No. You don't get to cause me pain and break me up inside and then kiss me and make me feel fucking cared for. You don't get to do that, Zayn!" I yelled.

"Liam, please, let me just-"

"Let you explain?" I scoffed. "Is that what you're gonna say? Because you're chance for explanation is long gone."

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"Sorry doesn't fix anything." I said, feeling even more broken up than I ever have before. He didn't get to beat me for being gay and then ignitiate a kiss between us. He didn't get to play with my emotions that way.

"I know. I know, but give me a chance, Liam. Please. I just... the only thing I fear more than wanting you is losing you." He confessed, and I didn't know how to respond.

So I stayed quiet. I didn't say a thing. It was too much to wrap my head around. I could handle Louis' kindness, but this... I didn't know what to do.

"Liam, can we just-"

Zayn was cut off as I heard someone unlocking the front door. We both froze in fear. Zayn sat beside me, wiping my tears and squeezing my hand to comfort me. It seemed he was always comforting me.

"Karen?" I heard my dad yell, checking to see if she was there or not, and I started shaking in fear. I felt Zayn grab my arm, and I was terrified.

"C'mon. We can go to my house." He said, and I didn't know if I should or not.

"Zayn, I- I can't. I-"

I was cut off as he pressed his lips to mine again. It was gentle and passionate. Two things I haven't felt in a while. And my eyes began to tear up again just thinking about how Zayn must be feeling.

I heard my dad call my mum's name again, probably checking their bedroom now, and Zayn broke the kiss. "Please. I have to keep you safe, princess." He said, and I was scared, but I nodded.

We left through the window, and I followed Zayn through the steets until we came close to where he stashed our backpacks last time. I was still shaking and scared, but I did notice how Zayn held my hand the whole way there. Even if we were in public.

I checked behind us again for the millionth time on the way here, and then we stopped walking. I looked at Zayn in curiosity, and he pointed to the white house we stood in front of.

"Um... my aunt's a bit much. Just a warning." He said, and I wanted to ask why he lived with his aunt, but I kept my mouth closed. What happened to his parents? Why did he lie in class? What was Zayn hiding from everyone?  
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"Would you like more tea, dear?" Zayn's aunt asked me, and I shook my head.

"No thank you." I said politely. She nodded before taking my cup along with Zayn's, kissing his forehead before she left the room with a smile.

"She's nice." I commented, and he nodded, smiling as well.

It was unusual to be in Zayn's room. His bed was king sized, pushed up against the window. I figured he liked to sit against the wall where he was and look out of the window. I sat on the end of his bed, and I noticed his bed sheets were grey. Grey. Such a deep color.

His walls were mainly bare except for a few band posters on his wall beside the closet. A TV sat on the opposite side of his bed, and I wondered what it was like to have your own TV. It was a small house, and it was only him and his aunt. Her name was Colette, and she was a beautiful woman. She looked a lot like Zayn, making me wonder what his parents looked like as well. There were no pictures of them anywhere.

"Yeah. She's amazing. Which is why I'm ashamed of what I've done. When I talk to her... I feel like I'm constantly betraying her by being one way at school and another at home." He said, and I didn't know how to respond. I never seemed to know how. This was Zayn opening up, and it was unusual for me.

"So why do it?" I asked, worried that I overstepped a boundary.

"Because I... People expected something from me. Everyone expects something from everyone. My mum expected one thing. My dad expected another. My friends expect something else. And the world expects fucking perfection." He said, and I still felt lost and left out. I wanted to know more, but I couldn't push all of his secrets out.

"That's it? Because people expect things from you? You made my life hell because people expected it? Was it that much fun to see me suffer?" I snapped, and Zayn looked at me in remorse.

"No. Of course not." He said. "I never... I never wanted to hurt you, princess. I was afraid." He whispered at the end, and I rose my eyebrows.

"You were afraid? Really? Of what? You weren't the one who had to constantly worry about getting their face bashed in. You weren't the one pushed around by the whole world. You weren't the one who had to look around every corner before walking down a hall because you didn't want to run into the people that wanted nothing more than to hurt you."

"I know, Liam. I know what I did, and I can't take it back, but I was afraid of things, too." He declared, and so many emotions drifted through his eyes.

"Then what were you afraid of?" I asked.

"I can't tell you." He said, and I sighed, going to get off of the bed but Zayn sat up quickly. "Where are you going?"

"Back home." I said. "You obviously can't even tell me something so simple, so why should I trust anything else you've said."

"It's not simple. You don't know about what I've been through. I can't tell you, but I'm not letting you leave. You can't go back to that house while your dad is there alone. I won't let him hurt you that way." He said, climbing over to where I was sitting and looking me in the eyes.

"Why do you like me?" I asked. It was the one question that automatically popped into my mind as he kissed me earlier. What was there to possible like about me?

"Because you didn't expect anything from me." He automatically responded.

I looked away from him, feeling all of my hope fall away. He liked the fact that I didn't push him to become something else. He liked the thought of someone letting him be, not me. He didn't like who I was, only what I didn't push him to do. And I was back to fighting tears away.

"Oh." I said, and I heard Zayn shuffle on the bed so that he was sitting right beside me.

"That's not all." He said, and my hope came rushing back as my eyes snapped back to his, waiting for his response. "I like how caring you are. I like how you never judged anyone. I like how goddamn stubborn you are." He chuckled, and I shook my head.

"I wasn't in a position to judge." I confessed.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't even if you were." He said, and I felt him reach for my hand, holding it in his own. "I like your laugh. I like your smile. I feel like I never see them often. And I like how inspired you are. I like how you watch other people, giving them the benefit of the doubt even when they're probably cruel people. I like how you want to know how other people feel and worry about their feelings even when they don't think about you twice." He said.

"How could you possible get of that when I've basically turned myself off all through high school?" I asked.

"I may have liked you for a while." He confessed, and I was shocked. How long has he liked me? I use to think that he didn't even know about my existence. He was just the quiet kid in the back of the class.

"How long?" I dared to question.

"Longer than you've liked me." He said, a hopeful tone to his words.

"I don't." I whispered, feeling myself blush. Was it that oblivious?

"Please don't say that." Zayn begged, and I looked over at him to see how hurt he looked at my words. "Don't say it unless it's true."

"I... okay." I said. "I won't." I finished, feeling exposed now that my feelings were displayed to him.

He smiled before leaning in to kiss me again, and I let out a sigh as his lips touched mine. Maybe I didn't know his story, maybe I didn't forgive the pain he caused me, maybe I still didn't know who the real Zayn was, but kissing him felt so right, and I liked the feeling of being cared for.

We laid side by side on the bed, Zayn leading the kiss expertly, and it made me feel insecure and ashamed about my lack of experience. Zayn was my first kiss, and I pulled away suddenly.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his thumb running along my cheekbone, and I nodded. Zayn cared. He had to. And I would be okay.

"Yeah. 'm fine." I breathed out.

"Do you want to stop?" He asked, and I was thankful that Zayn cared so much about my opinion right now.

"Not really." I admitted, and Zayn smiled, kissing me again. And I let go. I let myself enjoy the exhilarating feel of his lips against mine. I wanted to forget my fear, my pain, my self-hate, and I wanted to feel everything this kiss was giving me. Care, a feeling of worth, and so much passion. Everything I needed and wanted.

And after the kiss broke, I rested my head against Zayn's neck, taking in his scent and hiding the tears that wanted to spill out of my eyes. Because I didn't want to believe this could go away.

Things could always go away.

But right now, in this moment, I would enjoy it.


	16. Boundaries

"No. You're not going home." Zayn said again, rejecting the idea of me going back home now. The topic was brought up a good five minutes ago, and he was refusing to let me go.

"Then what the hell am I suppose to do?" I shot back. "I can't stay here forever, Zayn. You forgot the fact that my dad would know, or suspect, that I was with that friend of mine my mum told him about. Besides, I'm not staying at your house."

"You can stay for the night. Just to make sure you're safe. Please, Liam?" He begged, taking my hands into his, but I shook my head, pulling my hands back.

"I'm not staying here." I stated again. I was going to hold my ground on this. It wouldn't be right to stay in his house.

"Why not?" He asked, sounding like he was getting irritated with me, but I was already frustrated with him.

"Because I don't know you, Zayn. How about that? Because kissing me doesn't change the fact that you'll still treat me like I'm nothing at school in order to save yourself. Because I just can't trust you with how I... I can't trust you." I threw back.

"This isn't about trusting me, Liam. It's about you being safe. My aunt wouldn't allow this to happen, and neither will I." He said, and I froze, looking at him in fear.

"Did you tell her? Did you tell your aunt?" I asked, fear and anxiety working their way through me as I stood from the bed. "You weren't suppose to tell anyone, Zayn! God, how the hell am I suppose to stay here when she knows that I-" 

"Calm down." He said, standing up as well and resting his forehead against mine. It was something I found calming yet intimidating. I gulped, thinking about how close his lips were. "I didn't tell her. I said I wouldn't tell, and I won't. I really wish you'd let me though." He said, his hand lifting up to caress my cheek. "I just want you safe."

"If you say that you're not ashamed of liking me, if you say that you won't push me away as soon as we step into that school building, I'll stay." I said, looking him in the eyes, and I saw his hesitation. It broke me up inside. And he stayed silent.

"See? Have a nice night, Zayn." I said, pulling away from him and walking toward his door, but he pulled me arm back again.

"Please don't leave." He begged, and I sighed before turning to him.

"Why should I stay? You're such a fucking asshole, Zayn." I said, pushing his hand off of my arm. "You know what? Getting hit by my father hurts less than being around you." I confessed, and I saw a bit of hurt flash on his features before a hard stare took its place.

"Do you like getting hurt, Liam?" He asked in a cold tone, and I felt the fear creep up on me. "Huh!?" He asked again, pushing me back into the wall. "Do you like when people treat you like shit and push you around?" He asked, pushing me against the wall again as I tried to move away.

"No!" I yelled back, tired of hearing his taunting. "But it's all people seem to do! It's all you fucking seem to do!" I said, pushing him back this time. He looked shocked for a second before he walked toward me again.

"Don't touch me." I gritted out, holding my hands up to keep him away.

"I'm sorry, princess. I just... it drives me insane knowing that you actually want to go back there." He said, shaking his head, unable to understand why I'd need to.

"It's not that I want to." I said. "Do you think I like getting hit by my own father? Do you think I enjoy the stinging lashes on my skin? Do you think I enjoy the bruises left by his fists? Do you think I enjoy his finerprints on my arms from how harshly he grabs me? Do you think I enjoy the blood that rushes from my body? Do you think I like getting beaten to death?" I ranted out, seeing his face change so many times as I revealed all of what goes on in that house.

"Do you think I like being covered in blood, sweat, and tears at the end of nearly every day? Do you think I enjoy getting beaten at school and then getting it down ten times worse at home? Do you think I enjoy looking my mum in the eyes and telling her I'm fine? Now, do you think I enjoy calling that place my home?" I seethed.

"I didn't mean it like that." He said, and I shook my head.

"Then what did you mean, Zayn? Because I never know. You change your fucking mind so often, and I don't think I can handle that. You show me a piece of you that I like, a piece that I want to hold on to, and then you go right back to pushing me out of your life. So often that I don't even want to be in it anymore unless it has to do with you beating the shit out of me because at least then I knew where I stood." I explained, anger simmering through me. "I don't know who you are or what you want from me."

I sighed, feeling exhausted, so I sat on Zayn's bed again. He stood there in silence for a while before he sat beside me and looked me in the eyes.

"I promise to show you who I am. A bit of who I am, anyway. As long as you promise that you'll stay tonight." He said, and he knew it was an offer I would think about. I wanted to be able to put the pieces together, but Zayn always made it so hard.

"Why should I believe you?" I asked. I believed him before, and it only made things worse.

"Because what I'm going to tell you is something I've never told anyone before. Not even Louis. It's not exactly my whole story, but I'll show you a piece of it. If you promise to stay." He said, and I was curious. I still remembered that quiet kid who say in the back of the class just watching people. I thought he was observing them and that's what made him so good at working people. He watched so often. Could there be another reason that he watched?

"Why did you watch people?" I asked, seeing that the question was unexpected. I didn't even agree to stay yet, and I was already trying to pry something out of him.

"It was the only thing I knew, I suppose. I wasn't an outgoing kid. I didn't know how to start a conversation. I didn't know what made people tick. So I watched them all interact, hoping I'd come to some revelation about it all." He explained.

"You clearly did." I mumbled, thinking about how easily he runs people. He can capture their attention with a snap of his fingers.

"I guess so." He shrugged off. "But that's all pretend. Sort of like an alter-ego. Someone that I want to be, but I'm not. Not really. Someone I was suppose to be." He said, seeming to fall into thought, and I was still confused on what he meant, but I didn't think I would ever understand, not without the missing pieces of his memories filling in the blanks.

"Why did you watch people?" He questioned back, and I didn't know how to respond.

"I didn't." I said. True, I was a bit more social back then than I am now, but I still wasn't part of the crowd. I guess people just knew that I was gay without me even having to say it. Or maybe that was just my worry that made me think that way. Perhaps it was my father's voice telling me that everyone would hate me for it.

"Yes you did." Zayn said. "I know because I watched you." He confessed, and I looked up, seeing him already staring at me with intensity. There was a look in his eyes that I couldn't put a label to, but it made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.

"I guess I just... I guess I knew I didn't fit in. I was... envious. Because everyone else was so normal. Nobody else had to worry about their dad slapping them across the face for accidentally doing something that was deemed as gay in his eyes. Nobody else had to hide that big secret so soon. Or at all. Nobody else had to worry about what they were going to say before they said it because one wrong move could give it all away." I explained, feeling broken at the memory.

"Guess we both wanted to converse easily with others." He said, and I nodded, amazed that we had that in common.

"Only difference is that you figured it out. I didn't." I said truthfully. I don't think I could ever figure people out. They were too complicated, and nobody gave me the time of day anyway.

"No. I just faked it until I made it. I wouldn't know how to talk to people if they knew the real me." He confessed. "It's why I find it so hard to talk to you. Because I don't want to lie to you, yet... I'm not keen on showing my true colors. I figured hurting you was a way I could see you, talk to you, be around you, without giving in to everything I wanted. Because I didn't want to let myself want you. I couldn't. I'm not... gay." He said, but he seemed so unsure of everything.

"Just because you like a guy doesn't necessarily mean you're gay." I pointed out. There were plenty of sexualities, and some people just fell for a person they never thought they would.

"Well, that's not what I've been told all my life." He said, a shy smile playing on his features, and it made me realize that Zayn's parents must play a big part in this puzzle. They must have put the whole puzzle together only to be disappointed. They must have tore it apart and scattered the pieces.

"Why do you live with your aunt?" I asked, seeing Zayn look at me with a sad look in his eyes. "Where're your parents?"

"That's the part I really don't want to get into." He admitted, and I really wanted to know, but it seemed to be that one sensitive topic for him, so I let it slide.

"Liam?" He asked, and I hummed in response, laying down on his bed, surprisingly feeling comfortable. The conversation led me into a relaxed feeling, and Zayn smiled as I laid back, looking almost proud. "Remember that time in fifth grade... when you missed school for almost a whole week?" He questioned, and I froze, remembering the reason behind it.

"They said you were sick. Were you?" He asked, laying beside me and looking deeply into my eyes. I didn't want to answer because I wasn't sick. Not at all.

That was the first time my dad brought me down to the basement. I was so excited because he said we were going to get a ball to play catch. I was thankful that my dad wanted to spend time with me again, but I was foolish. My mum was working, of course, and my dad was on break. And I endured the pain he caused me for almost an hour. It was too much for my small body. I got my first scar on my waist that day, and it took four days for the bruises to nearly heal. I didn't want to admit to that, but I did anyway.

"No. I wasn't." I confessed, feeling so fragile as Zayn wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him and pressing his lips to mine.

I kissed back automatically, the butterflies that always came around were going mad in my stomach, making me feel more alive than ever. I didn't know how numb I was until he kissed me.

He turned me on my back, laying in between my legs as he continued to kiss me, keeping it slow and passionate. It held emotions I didn't even know he was capable of holding. There was compassion, strength, fear, and something else I couldn't describe, but it made my heart pound in my chest.

I panicked as his hands lifted my shirt up, and I pushed him away. "I'm not doing that with you." I said, feeling so stupid. Of course he would only want to use me for pleasure. That was probably what he wanted this whole time.

I felt tears beginning to pool in my eyes, and I looked away from Zayn as I sat up, cursing myself for how foolish I was. I couldn't stay here. I couldn't.

I was going to get up and leave, but Zayn stopped me, holding my face in his hands. "I wasn't trying to do that, Liam. I would never try that with you. Not like this. Please believe me." He said, and I didn't know what to believe. I looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, and I nodded.

He closed his eyes as if he was thankful for my decision, and then looked back into my eyes. "I wanted to see how badly he hurt you. I just want you to know that those bruises don't define you. The scars don't own you. And all the shit I put you through, that everyone outs you through, is so wrong. And you don't deserve it, princess."

His voice was thick as he said the words, as if he was struggling with emotions, and it was the side of Zayn that prompted me to allow him to hold me in his arms and trust him as I fell asleep the night before.

"Then why do they do it? Why did you do it?" I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Because people tell you what's suppose to be right and what's suppose to be wrong. And we're all stupid enough to believe it. Or taught to be very afraid." He whispered out the last sentence, and it felt like I would always have gaps in his explanations.

"If I stay tonight, what are you going to show me?" I asked, reminding him of what led to all of this conversing.

"My mum." He said with a deep inhale, and I remembered how he would mention his mum only to deflect any questions I had about her. It made me curious, and I felt as if she was a start into truly understanding him.

"Okay. I'll stay." I said, watching the thankful smile that appeared on his face at my words. "I just need to text my mum." I said, getting my phone out and going over to his bed to sit. "You should ask your aunt first though." I suggested, looking up at him.

"She's fine with it. I asked her while I went to help her with the tea earlier. I think she really likes you." He said, and I nodded before texting my mum for permission, which she agreed to not less than five minutes later.

"Guess I'm staying." I said.

"I'll go get us some more tea. Talking about this makes me nervous." He confessed, and I understood the feeling. He walked out of the room, and I was left to think about this weirdly beautiful relationship Zayn and I had. It was also torture. Because I think I was allowing him to slip past things way too quickly. And I couldn't get a grasp on any of it.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"So... what was your mum like?" I asked hesitantly, remembering how he shot me down the last time I asked the question.

"Beautiful. Incredible. Strong." He began. We were both laying down on his bed, the hot tea long forgotten on the bedside table. The lights were out, and I figured Zayn did that on purpose. Perhaps it was easier for him to talk about it if he felt like nobody was around to see him feel.

Still, his arms were wrapped around my waist, and I didn't let myself think about how much I've been hurt as I was snuggle up to his chest. His scent was calming, and it scared me how this felt so natural; so right.

I thought about how Zayn offered me his jacket a few minutes before as he saw me shiver, one that I tried to hide. Truth was, it felt amazing to wear his jacket, and I could see that sams admiration in his eyes as I wrapped the longer sleeves around my hands, completely encompassing them.

"You love her a lot." I pointed out, and he smiled.

"Yeah. I love her." He admitted, looking down at me with a small smile. "She always supported me in everything I did. She was my rock, you know? She was always there to hold my hand and let me know that things would be okay. And, um, that song you heard me play in music class, the song you wanted to know about, I wrote it for my mum."

"She'd probably love it." I said, seeing Zayn's eyes begin to tear up, but he didn't dare let a tear fall. He didn't cry. I've never seen him cry. And I suddenly realized that there must be a reason why she wasn't here. Especially since she loved him so much. "Why isn't she here?" I asked quietly.

"She passed away when I was thirteen." He said. "And I lost myself."

I wanted more. I needed more to the story, but I was afraid to ask the questions I desperately wanted answers to. I wanted to know what he meant. How did he lose himself? What about his dad? How did she die? I couldn't stop myself from asking the last one.

"What happened to her?" I asked, and I felt his arms tighten around me for a second, his eyes shutting softly, and I admired how long his eyelashes looked. He was beautiful, even in the dim light of the dark.

He let out a sigh and answered. "She was pregnant. She died giving birth. Both her and the baby." He explained. "My dad... he was devastated to say the least." He said.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"I am, too."

It was silent after that. I felt bad for prying this out of him, yet I still wanted to know more. This was only a start to who he was, and I needed more.

"You know, I told her about you in sixth grade." He said, and I looked up at him in confusion.

"Why would you do that? We never even talked." I said. It made no sense to me.

"Yes we have. Once. Well, not directly." He said, and I was beyond confused now.

"No we didn't. I think you're confused because I've never spoke a word to you before eigth grade." I said, shaking my head against his shoulder.

"Do you remember that time in fifth grade when you heard someone crying in the bathroom stall before class?" He asked, and I looked at him in shock.

"That was you?" I asked, and he nodded.

"Yup. You had no idea who it was or why they were crying, but you offered comfort anyway. That's something so rare to find." He said, laying closer to me and looking me in the eyes.

"Why were you crying?" I asked, and he just smiled and shook his head.

"Just a disagreement with my dad." He said, looking away in shame.

"It's okay to cry, you know." I said. "I know I'm being hypocritical because I hate doing it, also, but it means you're strong enough to feel. Strong enough to care. Strong enough to show your true self."

"Yeah? Tell that to my dad." He chuckled, but I could tell he was hurt. And I wanted to ask about it, but I didn't want to upset him.

"Tell me more about your mum. What'd you say about me?" I asked.

"I told her that you were the nicest person I've ever seen. I told her that I felt bad for how people began treating you. I told her that I wanted to protect you, and I told her that I always wanted to talk to you again, but I had no idea how to start a conversation." He divulged, and I was tongue-tied.

"What'd she say?" I questioned.

"She said to just be nice and see where that led me." He said, shutting his eyes again. "She said the exact same thing to me a day before she died. She told me to always be nice to everyone. She said a kind soul was the only weapon in a world of evil. I used hatred as my defense instead of fighting the war. Because she wasn't there to guide me. She'd be so disappointed in the things I've done. But my dad... he's be proud." He said, and I could tell he wanted to break down, but he wouldn't allow himself to.

I lifted my arm up, letting my fingers through the sleeve of the jacket as I played with the small hairs at the nape of his neck. "She's still love you, though. She'll always love you." I said.

"I'm not sure about that." He said with a pained smile. "But I love her."

We laid in silence, and I closed my eyes, feeling completely relaxed here on Zayn's bed in the dark. It was like our own little world that we were in, but I didn't want to let myself get too close. Not when I was so unsure about him still.

"What's your favorite memory with her?" I asked to distract him from the sadness.

"Every single day. She would always pick me up from school and we'd buy ice cream on the way home. She's was always in a good mood, even if something was wrong. Just to be with her is my favorite memory." He said, smiling a bit, and I found this smile different from the others. It was adorable, like a little boy who truly missed and needed his mum.

"You know, I only started watching you after your told me everything would okay in that restroom. I really needed that. But I never repayed you for it. I hit you and pushed you around. I acted like- I wasn't who I really am." He said.

"I would understand better if you just told me everything." I whispered, and he smiled.

"It's not that easy." He said, and I didn't retaliate this time because I could see just how painful even this was for him. I could only imagine how much deeper things went.

"You know, I think my mum knew I liked you before I did." He said, shocking me again. "And I think she was okay with it."

"But you're still afraid." I said calmly.

"She was okay with it." He said again, and I was going to ask what he meant, but he leaned in again, pressing his lips to mine again.

I kissed back with a small sigh, feeling more relaxed than I ever have before. And my heart felt like it was drowning in how much care I felt. Because Zayn was so careful. It was like I was a porcelain doll, and he was a caretaker.

We pulled apart for air minutes later, and I couldn't stop the stupid smile that made its way upon my face. I was betraying myself by pretending things could work out when I knew it couldn't. Zayn would always push me away again.

"Are you sleepy?" He asked, and I nodded slightly, realizing that this is the first night I would fall asleep in total peace.

Zayn pulled out the covers before putting them over both of us. He kissed my lips once more, and I found it to be an addictive feeling. "Goodnight, princess." He said, playing with my hair as I let out a sigh, closing my eyes.

I knew it was dangerous to act this way. Zayn couldn't make promises. He couldn't commit to anything. He would always treat me one way in public and another in private. It would be this way, and I would only get hurt.

But I let myself long for that perfecr fairytale ending. The one where the prince and the princess live happily ever after. The ones in the story books where paon hardly exsists and love takes over. 

But this wasn't love. This was an attraction. And it was a mask. A pain reliever for life's reality.

This wasn't a fairytale.


	17. Divulge

Waking up in Zayn's arms was a strange experience. Strange because I never expected to be in a position like this, and I definitely never expected to like it. And liking it was even more dangerous than actually doing the action.

"Good morning." Zayn said, and I looked up at him, surprised he was awake. My eyes drifted over to the clock, and I read that it was nearly seven in the morning. Of course he was awake. We had to start getting ready for school.

School. I was understandably nervous for school. I knew I had Louis on my side for something, but my position with Zayn was still so confusing. Sure, he was caring and vulnerable when it was just us two, but, like he said, people expected things from him. He wasn't who he was at school, but a part of me wondered if that wasn't who he was or if that wasn't who he wanted to be.

"I really don't want to get up." He groaned, pulling me closer to him and resting his head on my neck. The action made me shiver slightly, and I felt Zayn's smile against my skin. It was tantalizing, but I had to ignore it. I couldn't allow high hopes -- or any kind of hopes -- that Zayn would be this way in public.

"I can't miss another day of school." I said truthfully. My dad was already on my case, and I knew skipping again would only make it worse. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't. As peaceful as it was when we were alone, I had to go. "I still need to get my stuff from home." I said, sitting up and ruining the warmth and sanctuary we had.

I took off Zayn's jacket, handing it back to him and completely shedding away all of my warmth. I felt exposed again. I felt like moving from this spot would cause the little world we built in the darkness would shatter. How could darkness hold something so nice?

"You can have it." He said, pushing it back to my chest. Sure, as much as I wanted to keep it, I knew that it was only a matter of time before there was some other type of fight that broke out between us.

"You already got me one." I assured, attempting to give it back to him, but he pushed it back and sat up as well.

"Okay. Then maybe I just like to see you wear it." He said, making me end the conversation and just take the jacket. I looked away from him, and was going to get out of bed.

"I have to go home to get ready." I informed, but Zayn grabbed my arm, keeping me seated. He turned my face to his and pressed a closed-mouth kiss to my lips. It shocked me, but it was over almost as soon as it began.

"I'll go with you. Just let me get ready." He said, climbing out of bed, and I sighed, not wanting to have this argument again, but it was too risky.

"No, Zayn. That's not a good idea." I said, standing up as well. "Sure, last time we got lucky, but there's no telling what would happen this time. There's a good chance that my mum and dad are both awake. I've never woken up this late for school." I explained. I left out the part about never sleeping a whole night like this either.

"And what if it's only your dad awake? What if he hurts you?" He asked, stepping closer to me, and I wanted to ask what good having him there would be anyway, but it would only upset him. I think Zayn knew that he couldn't do much if my dad were to hurt me in front of him, but I also think he wanted to try. It was more than anyone else has offered.

"He won't. Not before a school day. The only thing he loves more than hurting me is not seeing me around." I confessed. It was true. My dad didn't want me. He hasn't for a long time, and I hated how he made me blame myself for it at times.

Zayn looked deep in thought, and I watched as he bit his lip in his own debate before letting out a sigh. "Fine. I'll see you at school." He said, and I nodded, getting my shoes back on before walking by him on my way out.

Before I could leave his room, he grabbed my hand gently and said "Promise me you'll be okay." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a plead. It wasn't a want. It was a statement. It was a need.

"I'll be okay." I said, feeling my heart flutter again as Zayn squeezed my hand, eyes showing fear as I said "I promise."  
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We were halfway through art class, and I constantly felt Zayn's eyes on me. I knew he was worried about what could have happened this morning, but there was nothing to worry about. I didn't get hit. But I wouldn't tell him about what my dad said to me before I left the house.

"What did your dad do?" He whispered to me as he worked on his painting. So far he painted over the lines of a young boy in a baseball uniform, but the ball from the glove was carelessly dropped to the floor. The other half of the painting was too lightly sketched to see what it was going to be.

"Nothing." I said. It wasn't important. His words weren't important. Still, I knew it bothered Zayn because he balled his hand up in a fist and said "Ask to go to the restroom."

"What?" I questioned, stopping my own painting to look at him in confusion.

"Just do it." He said, and I got out of my seat and walked over to the teacher, getting permission easily because I never asked for anything in class. I was one of the few who didn't.

I walked to the closest restroom and went inside, waiting against the wall for Zayn. I had no clue why he was so mad. Nothing really happened this morning. Maybe he knows something though.

The door opened and Zayn walked in, locking it behind him, something that has happened too many times that it was becoming predictable. It was like a constant case of deja vu, and it terrified me now as much as the first time.

"What did your dad do, Liam?" He asked again, pinning me against the wall with his arms on either side of me.

"Nothing." I mumbled again, not wanting to tell him how he threatened me again. It didn't concern him. He couldn't protect me.

"Then what the hell is this!?" He yelled, holding up my arm, and my eyes widened as I noticed the bruises left by my dad's fingerprints. How did I not notice them sooner? What if someone else saw?

"Nothing. It's nothing." I repeated, pulling my arm out of his hold and rushing over to the mirror to see how noticeable it was. What if the teacher saw this? What if they started asking questions? And I didn't have any concealer to cover it up.

"Liam, don't lie to me. Not about this. He fucking grabbed you hard enough to leave a bruise. What the hell did he do?" He asked, seeming desperate for my answer, so desperate he was turning mad.

"Why does it matter, Zayn? You weren't there and there was nothing you could have done even if you were because he would have fucking hurt you, too! You can't protect me." I raged, getting so frustrated with his questions. I needed something to cover this up.

"I can try." He said gently, and I looked into the mirror, seeing him walk right up behind me before I felt him grab my bruised arm. It was moments like this that confused me. One minute we were yelling at each other and the next minute he pulled something like this that made me speechless.

"How badly did I hurt you?" He suddenly asked, looking me in the eyes through the mirror, and I didn't want to answer. I felt tears building in my eyes again, and Zayn turned me to him, pulling me close to him. "Liam... how badly?"

"Very. But not as bad as him." I said. How do I tell him that he succeeded in making my life a living hell? How do I tell him that it was this extra abuse that made me want to fall over the edge?

"How badly did I make you hate yourself?" He questioned, and I looked at him in shock and fear. He knew that? How did he know.

He seemed to read my mind and gave out a humorless chuckle. "I watch people. Remember? I watch you. I see it. You know you only look in the mirror if you're looking at the damage done to you?" He pointed out, and I felt vulnerable and exposed. How is it that he knew so much about me when I knew nothing about him?

"Can I... I need to get my jacket. From my locker." I said, doing my best to avoid the topic so I wouldn't break down. How do you look someone in the face and tell them they're the reason you thought of suicide? How do you tell someone that they make you feel small? How do you tell the person who says they like you that liking them back is the last thing you ever wanted in life?

"After you tell me." He pressed. "Tell me, princess." He said, kissing my forehead, and I closed my eyes, trying not to explode out all of my thoughts.

"I can't. Not here." I begged, not wanting to open my eyes, but I knew Zayn was watching me intently. I knew he was debating on whether or not should let me go now.

"My house after school." He suggested. But I didn't know if I wanted to go there again. It felttoo comfortable, and I could not allow that. I couldn't allow myself to get too close to him only for him to drop me down again. Rejection was something I could handle, but with Zayn I was either worth it all or completely worthless. There was no in between. I knew that, but I don't think he did. I think he ignored the part of him he didn't like so much that he is no longer in control of the acting.

"I can't, Zayn." I said, and it felt like I've been rejecting everything he's said so far today, but maybe it was for my own protection.

"Then I'll go to yours." He insisted, and I knew he wasn't going to back down. I couldn't risk him being hurt. Eventhough a normal person should want revenge on their bullies for all they've done, I don't seem to have that in my system. I wanted to forget it all, but how could I when Louis was acting nice and Zayn was making me feel?

"I'll be there." I gave in, breathing out the words from my lips. I felt so weak as I said the words, and I felt exhausted. I was tired of feeling, but Zayn made me want to feel. It was all so complicated, and I wasn't sure what I truly wanted. 

What if it wasn't a case of what I want but what I need?

"Thank you." He said, letting me go, and I walked to my locker, but I felt him walking right behind me. I wasn't surprised. Not anymore.

I pulled out the jacket that Zayn bought me and shrugged it on my shoulders. "Is that okay?" I questioned, making sure the bruises were hidden, even if I still felt like everyone would know. It was an unusual feeling to feel so see-through.

"Why didn't you bring the other jacket?" He asked instead of answering my question.

"Because people would know it was yours." I said as I looked away from him to close my locker, remembering how he was absolutely silent when I basically figures out that he was ashamed of liking me and that nobody else would know because he wouldn't allow them to.

"No they wouldn't." He said. "I haven't worn that jacket in years." He added.

"Why? Because everyone expected you to look a certain way in order for you to run the damn school." I spat out, feeling so pissed off with the fact that he will hit me and bully me in public but only treat me kindly when we were alone.

"Liam," He sighed, "their opinion is the last thing on my mind right now. I don't give a shit about what they expect from me when I see those bruises on your arm." He said with a hint of anger, but I knew that was bullshit.

"Really?" I asked, looking him in the eyes with anger of my own. "Then why didn't you offer me your jacket to cover it up?"

He was silent, and I knew I won. He wouldn't let me wear his leather jacket because everyone would know for sure whose it was. He couldn't have that. And I couldn't have this. So, I turned to walk away and go back to class.

"Liam, wait." He begged, and I ignored him. He always had to ruin things. I shouldn't be surprised though, he ruined everything the day he decided that pushing me against a locker for fun was a cool thing to do. The day he decided to give all of his lovely subjects a fucking show.

"Liam." He repeated, running up to me before stepping in front of me. "Why are you acting this way? Why does it matter?" He asked, and I closed my eyes for a second so I wouldn't full on yell at him in the middle of the hallway where several classes were going on.

"It doesn't matter." I said, eventhough it did. It hurt. I cut deep, and I knew he was smart enough to realize that. He chose what he wanted to believe. "It only fucking hurts that you'd have no problem letting me wear it if I were a girl. So why not go find one instead of playing with my feelings?" I spat, attempting to walk around him, but it proved to be a futile move.

"I don't want anyone else." He said, and I tried to hold onto my anger as he pressed a kiss to my cheek and rested out foreheads together. "But I can't have them knowing."

"Know what? That you like a loser? That I'm even more stupid than they thought because I actually like the asshole who bullied me? That you're gay-"

"That I like you." He cut my off from continuing, his hold on my hand tightening as soon as the last few words came out of my mouth.

"Right. Because you're ashamed of it." I said, feeling so small in front of him.

"I'm afraid of it." He reiterated. "I'm afraid of this feeling I get around you, princess." He said, and I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe it so much that I felt a lump in my throat and a burning in my eyes as they began to water.

All I've ever wished for since the first time my dad laid hands on me was for someone to like me. For anyone to care. I wanted them to be proud of being with me. I wanted my first boyfriend or my first crush to treat me with so much care. I wanted my first kiss to be with someone who loved me. I planned out my perfect fairytale in my head.

This was not how I imagined it.

"I'm afraid of the way I like holding you. I'm afraid of how much I like you wearing my jackets. I'm afraid of how I never know what to say to you. I'm afraid of the way my heart beats at a thousand beats per minute at the very thought of you. I'm afraid of the pain in your eyes that I know I cause, too. I'm afraid of hurting you. I'm afraid of the way my hands shake at the very thought of touching you because you may not be real. I'm afraid of how I lie in bed at night and all I think about is you. I'm afraid of not being able to protect you. I'm afraid because I've felt this way for so long. I'm afraid that this isn't considered right. I'm afraid of the thought that a crush shouldn't last this long. I'm afraid of the power I'm giving you to hurt me. I'm afraid of how badly I want to kiss you because it's like nothing I've ever felt before." He rambled in a frightened rush of words.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, looking me in the eyes with such fear and care.

I didn't know what to say or do. I didn't know how to respond to all of that. I felt like the was Zayn pouring his heart out, but I feel like there was still more. Because there's always more with Zayn. More to his story, his feelings, his character. And I was slowly building up the blocks of his life, only for him to knock them down again.

"I'm afraid of feeling at all." I managed to say, seeing a look of pain in Zayn's eyes at my confession, and I knew he understood all of my underlying thoughts in those few words.

And when he kissed me, I let myself face my fear.


	18. Sanctuary

"Hello again, Liam. It's so nice to see Zayn bringing a friend around other than Louis. He's a nice boy, but he can sure be a handful." Zayn's aunt laughed, and I watched as Zayn smiled as well and kissed her cheek before leading me inside.

    "Do you guys want me to make you anything before I leave?" She asked, grabbing her purse and keys. Zayn looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shook my head.

     "No thank you. I'm fine." I said. I was use to the constant feeling of hunger, and I knew asking for anything would only burden her life.

      "Are you sure, sweetheart? I have time and you both look hungry and tired. Why don't you go to Zayn's room, and I'll make you guys a little snack." She suggested, setting her things down and walking toward the kitchen.

      I was going to deny the offer again, but she was already gone through the kitchen door, and I felt warm inside as Zayn took my hand in his and led me to his room. I felt myself longing for that same moment of closeness we had last night as soon as we walked into the room. The room was familiar but still so unusual considering that it was only my second time stepping foot in it.

    It held better memories than my own room.

     "Does Louis come over often?" I asked, the only thing I could think of to break the silence we were in.

      I sat on the bed, setting my bag down on the floor, and Zayn walked over to me with a shrug.

     "Typically. He's been busy lately though. Last time I hung out with him outside of school was when I showed up drunk to your house." He said, almost hesitating in beinging the moment up again. I perfectly understood why, and I dreaded the idea of going back home.

      I knew why Louis was busy. He told me about how he's been planning the perfect date to tell Harry he loved him. He was doubting himself, and I never thought I would be the one giving him comfort.

      "We're not going to talk about Louis, though." Zayn said, probably knowing that I would try anything I could to distract him from the topics he did want to discuss. I only nodded along at his request.

     "What did your dad do to you?" He asked, taking my hand in his again and squeezing it tight. I looked from our hands to his eyes, and I knew I couldn't lie to him. I should be able to, but I couldn't. His eyes just held something in them that made me want to let him in. It sickened me to my stomach.

      "He said... he said that he wanted me home right after school." I began, nervous because I already broke that rule. "He said that as soon as I stepped my sorry ass through the door that he was going to show me the consequences of staying out all night and... and, um... giving myself to some guy like a filthy slut."

     Zayn's hold on my hand tightened, and silence fell over us again, making me panic. Maybe I said too much. Maybe my dad's words upset Zayn. Maybe the thought of sleeping with me, let alone touching me that way, disgusted him. So, I looked away from him and tried to pull my hand away, the shame swallowing me whole, but he didn't allow me to pull away.

      "That's not okay, Liam. He threatened you." He said, his voice holding pure rage in it, but he did his best to keep it calm and steady. I've never seen him like this before.

      "He threatens me all the time." I admitted, feeling so small compared to everyone around me. Why is it that I had to go through hell when I never even wished a single bad thing on anyone else?

      "But he shouldn't." He said. "He shouldn't treat you like that, and he has no right to. Liam, it's not okay for someone to hit their child. It's not okay to keep it a secret. It's not okay to hate someone because of who they are-"

    "Then why did you do the same thing?" I asked, cutting him off in a blind sort of rage. As much as I wanted to forgive Zayn, I couldn't. Not really. There was too much that made me not want to. There were too many bruises and echos of his words in my mind. But then there were the kisses and the gentle touches, too. There was feeling- something that became so foreign to me that it was my greatest fear to feel.

     He looked at me, his mouth shut and a pained look on his face, and I knew he was done. He didn't have an answer. It's just so damn hypocritical and it pisses me off.

     "I didn't hate you." He said lowly, and I just wanted to hit him square in the face for fucking with my emotions every time a word came out of his mouth. It was unfair the effect he had on me.

     "Well then it sure is hard to tell the difference." I said, and I didn't mean to bring him down this way, but I couldn't help but become defensive.

     "Liam, I-" He was going to say, but a knock on his door stopped him. We were both silent as his aunt walked in with a tray of sandwiches and celery. She held two drinks in her other hand, and Zayn rose from the bed to help her. He set the glasses down on his nightstand, and she set the tray down on the bed, smiling as I thanked her. Then, she turned around and left the room; it was only seconds before the front door opened and shut after, and we were alone.

     I sat, staring at the food and feeling a pang in my stomach at the thought of eating. I was so ashamed, and it was even worse as I felt Zayn's eyes on me, seeming to be watching me intently.

     "Why don't you eat?" Zayn asked, and there was no confusing the context. He didn't ask it how someone would if they were offering you some, he was asking it because he knew another secret I didn't even have to reveal to him. Because he was a watcher. Because he seemed to notice every little thing about me when I never even knew he cared. If he did. It still confused me.

      "I do." I whispered out, not having the strength to speak any louder or look up at Zayn. I knew if he kept on asking questions like this that I would break. I didn't want to break.

      "Not enough." He said, walking over to me and crouching in front of me, placing his hands on my thighs and he looked up at me. "Why?"

      "Because I can't." I said, closing my eyes as Zayn tried to make eye contact with me. He was finding out too many secrets- prying too deep- and I felt like he was a tornado that was trying to rid me of every little thing I had to call mine. He was tearing it to shreds.

      "You can." He said, lifting one hand up to touch my cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into his palm. "Someone just made you think you shouldn't. Who?" He asked, and I didn't know I was crying until I felt Zayn wiping away a tear so gently with his thumb.

     "Please look at me, Liam." He requested, but I didn't move to open my eyes. I couldn't. I felt as if I was an open book on a pedestal for him to read while he was a diary that was hidden and locked away. I wanted to be the diary.

      "Was it me?" He whispered, and I heard the pain he held in his voice, hearing his words strain as if they were painful for him to admit. "Is this how I made you feel?"

     And I was crying harder, never opening my eyes, never answering the question, never feeling as low as I did in that moment.

     "Liam." Zayn pressed on, one hand wiping my cheeks as the other gripped onto my hand. I felt him kiss my hand gently as he whispered "Please tell me, princess." And that did it.

      "It wasn't just you." I admitted. "It was everyone. Everything. Every little thing that told me I was wrong. Every person who told me I was worthless and useless. Every voice that said that nobody could ever love me. Everyone who pushed me around and brought me down until I wanted the ground to swallow me up. All of the betrayal. All of the disgust. All of the abuse. And I lost the will to continue. I lost the will to care."

     Zayn didn't say a thing. He only squeezed my hand, letting me know he was there and listening as I continued, and I didn't know whether I was thankful for that or not. All I knew was that anger was bubbling up inside me.

     "First my dad." I said, feeling hurt by the words that were so true. "And then you made it worse." I said, looking him in the eyes, tears falling uncontrollably, and Zayn only swallowed thickly, continuing to listen to me.

     "School was my sanctuary, which might be hard to believe, but it was the one place I felt safe and at least okay. But you had to ruin that." I said, feeling my hatred toward him bundle up with my feelings toward him in a contradictory web, making my heart scream out in pain.

     "Why did you have to choose me? Why me? Why the fuck did you have to hit me, Zayn!?" I yelled, feeling all of my emotion intertwine in a symphony of heartbreak and blinding rage. I pushed his hands away, but he held me tightly, making me feel as weak as he always does, yet so strong at the same time.

     "Because I didn't want to like you." He muttered out, and I shook my head at the pitiful answer.

      "Do you think I wanted to like you?" I questioned, seeming to cut him deeply as I said my next words. "Do you think I wanted to like the person who completely fucked up the one place I could be myself and be okay? Do you think I wanted to feel this way about someone who only caused me pain and suffering? Do you think anyone in their right mind would want to like their bully? The very person who promised to make their life a living hell? Because I sure as hell should hate you right now." I confessed.

      "I should hate you for the way you pushed me over the edge. The way you seemed to verify the things my dad said. The way you made me question if life was worth this. The way you looked me in the eyes and told me I was nothing. You did that to me." I said, watching him flinch every now and then at my words.

      "I don't want you to hate me." He said, sounding so small, and that was a first for him. He never sounded that way before. But what did I really know about Zayn?

      "Yeah? Well, I do." I said in anger, but I realized the anger was even worse when I directed it at myself.

      Throughout the whole time, Zayn held my hand and looked me in the eyes, wiping away tears every now and then for me, and it was so gentle. So caring. So sweet. And that's what made this so complicated.

     "God, do you know how hard it is to hate you?" I asked, feeling like my thoughts were just jumbled up in my mind. "It's so hard to hate you when you seem to care so much the next minute. Because there's another side of you that only I get to see, and it makes me melt at the very thought of it, but I hate how that Zayn only comes out in quiet places. The Zayn that cared enough to leave me a jacket, the one that protected me from danger, the one who held me through the night even if it risked his own safety, the one who had the bravery to call me pretty." I said, looking into his eyes with a longing. I longed for that person. I hoped that person would win the internal battle that Zayn seemed to struggle with.

      "You're not pretty, princess. You're absolutely beautiful." He said, resting out foreheads together and nuzzling his nose against mine, making me want to cry out of frustration. I hated these conflicting feelings. The indecisiveness and the unsure.

     "I'm sorry I can't be that Zayn all the time. But he's been hurt and afraid for far too long." He whispered, looking me in my eyes. "I hate seeing you cry, princess." He added, wiping more of my tears away, and I felt so overcome with emotions.

    I had so many questions. I wanted to know more about his past. I needed to. I needed to understand who Zayn was and what he's been through. But he wouldn't let me, and I didn't know how to make him speak. But there was something - something he was so terrified of revealing that he wouldn't say it at all.

    "Are you afraid of me?" I asked in a whisper, and I didn't want to know the answer. I regretted asking the question.

     "Terrified." He breathed out, and I felt him tremble as his hands moved to cling to my sides.

     "Why? I would never hurt you." I said, not trying to make him feel upset, but it was true. No matter how many times he hurt me, I never wanted to hurt him. I couldn't hurt people. Because I knew years and years of that hurt.

     "You hurt me everyday." He chuckled, and I wondered what he meant by that. How is it possible that I could've hurt Zayn? How is it possible when I haven't done anything to him.

     "How?" I asked, feeling his lips rubbing against mine with every word he spoke, that's how close we were, and it made my mind a hazy mess of desire.

     "In everything you do. Everything you say. In the way you make me feel." He whispered out. "Whether it's a good hurt or a bad hurt... it just hurts. But I need it to."

      I closed my eyes as Zayn kissed me, putting so much emotion into it, and I never knew that it was possible to feel so much. It sent a jolt of tingles throughout my body, making me realize how numb I felt before this. Before Zayn.

    His lips were smooth and familiar, his scent made my whole body relax as he kissed me passionately, and his touch made me tremble, wanting to pull away yet not having the strength to end the sensation I now seemed to crave.

      Was it possible that while I craved to be numb of all feeling that Zayn craved to feel anything at all? 

     Was it possible that where I was overly sensitive, he was completely numb?

     I didn't know. I couldn't say how he felt, but I could sense how hollow he was, and I barely noticed the emptiness in his eyes as we broke apart. It was replaced seconds later by a broken smile that he tried to pass off as happy, and I was going to comment, but then he was laying down with my in his arms, and I didn't want to ruin this moment. This moment that seemed too familiar.

      And I remained quiet, just listening to the beating of Zayn's heart and thinking of the very last line of the song I wrote to his piano playing.

     Perhaps love comes with the cost of pain  
\------------------------------------------------------

      I listened to every breath Zayn took, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath my head. And I knew he was asleep as his hold loosened, and he seemed so calm.

     I felt his breathing on the top of my head where he nuzzled his nose into my hair, pressing gentle kisses that made me question everything. I never thought I would like Zayn, let alone have these types of feelings toward him. They were stronger than anything I've ever felt, and it worried me.

     I looked up at him, smiling a bit at how peaceful he looked. I thought of how I use to see him in the back of the class, either drawing or staring off into space, lost in his own thoughts. Teachers loved him, parents seemed to love him when we had parent days, and so many people admired him. He was beautiful even back then. He seemed to have everything figured out. But I was wrong.

      I admired the little things about him. Like the way his eyelashes seemed to cast a moonlit shadow below his eyes, the way his hair was slowly becoming messy from sleep, the way his breathing was so even and in time with mine, the way his heart beat was like a soothing metronome.

      I thought about the conversation we had before he fell asleep, making me promise I wouldn't go home. He didn't want me to get hurt, but I couldn't run forever. I guess that's one good thing I learned from my dad. I couldn't run from my problems.

     "Sorry, Zayn." I whispered, lifting his arm up gently and crawling out of his bed. I grabbed my bag, throwing it over my shoulder before turning to the door, and I hesitated, looking back at Zayn. I didn't give myself time to think as I walked back over to him, bending down and pressing a kiss to his forehead, and then I rushed out of the room, afraid that I let too many feelings slip.

     I pulled the jacket I was wearing tightly around my body as I walked out into the cold, walking as fast as I could as I made my way back to my home, hoping and praying to see my mum's car in the drive way, and I let out a sigh of relief as I approached my house to see both cars in the lot.

     I went up the steps, opening up the door with my key before walking inside to see the place completely dark. All of the lights were off, and I cautiously made my way to my room, walking inside and setting my bag down, taking off my shoes and clothes until I was only in boxers.

     I went to the restroom, brushing my teeth and using the restroom. I then washed my face off, removing any concealer that hid bruises. I was about to step out off the restroom but stopped, turning to look in the mirror to see all of the bruises that I've seemed to collect on my body and face. There were so many of them, all different colors. And I remembered what Zayn said. I only looked in the mirror to see the damage.

    But what else was there to see?

    Nothing.


	19. Better

It was Friday morning, and I have never dreaded the weekend more than I did today. I knew I couldn't hide from my dad all weekend. I knew that Zayn couldn't be my protection from him. Especially since I left last night after telling him I wouldn't.

I put my hands into my jacket pockets as a cold breeze blew by me, and I shivered slightly. I couldn't stop my mind from drifting over to thinking about how warm Zayn's arms were. How warm and comfortable his bed was as well, and how I had to force myself to leave last night. I couldn't get use to that feeling. Not when things were so uncertain.

I walked into the school building, feeling a bit of warmth and feeling return to my fingers and toes. My skin seemed to burn from enduring all of the cold wind. I use to be able to suffer the cold without a problem. Use to be.

I went over to my locker, hesitating for a second as I saw Zayn waiting by it. He seemed to be looking around for me, and I couldn't tell if he would be pissed off or not. I took a deep breath before walking over to him, seeing his gaze lock on me as soon as he saw me.

"Where the hell did you go?" He asked as I stood in front of my locker. "You went home didn't you?" He pushed when I didn't answer, and I nodded slightly.

"Fuck, Liam." He groaned in frustration. "Did you get hurt? Did he hit you? Why would you do that? You fucking promised you wouldn't. Do you realize how scared I was to wake up and not see you there? Do you understand how worried I was that something bad happened to you?" He ranted off, keeping his voice low due to people around us. It irritated me a bit.

"I'm fine." I mumbled. I was just lucky that my parents were asleep and my mum was home. Who knows how late my dad would have stayed up for me if she wasn't.

Zayn watched me closely as I took off my jacket, and I knew his eyes were on my arm where the bruise was yesterday, but it was no longer visible. I hid it well.

"How often do you have bruises I can't see?" He asked, and the tone of his voice seemed to have a double meaning. I didn't like that. I didn't like the question. But I didn't even have to answer it because Zayn knew. By the way his eyes held sorrow and pain, he knew. I may have bruises on the surface, but I've never told people of the bruises underneath.

"Why did you leave?" He asked, and the many questions were irritating me. I just didn't know how to answer them all. I didn't know why he wanted to know.

"Because I couldn't stay." I simply said, closing my locker and trying to walk away. Zayn pulled me back against my locker, making a loud noise and causing people to look over at us with interest and curiosity.

Zayn seemed to notice, too, looking back at them all with angry eyes as he snapped. "What the hell are you looking at?"

They all looked away quickly, walking away from our area, and I looked up at Zayn, seeing true anger in his eyes as he watched them all leave. "Fuckers." He growled out, and I broke out of his hold.

"Why? Because they expect a show? Like you said, Zayn, people expect something from you, but you give them a reason to." I pointed out, seeing sadness fill his eyes before the anger flooded back.

"You don't know shit about me, Liam." He snarled, and I shook my head.

"You're right. I don't." I said, looking down at the books in my hand for class. "I don't know you at all. I don't think I ever will. So we can stop pretending like something is going on here because it's not."

"What do you mean?" He asked, trailing behind me as I started walking away from him. He grabbed my arm again, and I sighed before turning to him.

"I mean this whole thing between us. Nothing is going on." I said, speaking quietly so that nobody else would hear. I knew Zayn didn't want that, and I honestly didn't know if I did either. I didn't want everyone to know that I was so pathetic.

He looked over at everyone around us, and pulled me away to our typical hiding place- the closest restroom. It was becoming a thing, and I didn't need that.

He locked the door before turning to me, making sure it was empty inside. "What are you talking about? What do you mean nothing is going on?" He asked, seeming angry but also upset.

"I mean that it shouldn't be going on." I said, looking him right in the eyes. I was tired of him underminding me. I always took everything he said into consideration but got nothing in return. I was hurt. I was angry. I was broken. I was done.

"It should." He said, his hand reaching out for mine hesitantly after seeing the challenging look in my eyes. "It should because I have never felt this way about anyone before. And I know you're mad. I know you get frustrated with me, but you should know I get the same way with myself."

His forehead rested on mine, and I gave into the contact, closing my eyes at the feeling as my heart fluttered. "I just... I need you to wait for me. Just wait." He said, and I sighed, feeling like crumbling to pieces in his hands.

"That's a lot to ask for, Zayn." I admitted.

"I know. Fuck, I know. But I need you, princess. You have no idea how much I need you." He confessed, his lips so close to mine, but I wouldn't break.

"You need to let yourself be happy." I said, opening my eyes to see him staring back at me in desperation. "Something happened to you, Zayn. And I don't know what it is. Something more than your mum's death." I felt his hand squeeze mine at the mention of her, but I continued. "And you need to tell me what it is. It's the only way to get over it. It's the only way you can escape it." I said, and he scoffed.

"Like how you need to tell your mum about your dad beating you?" He threw, and that stung.

I pulled back from his touch, clearly wounded by him, and he reached out for me desperately, like a child afraid of losing their stuffed animal that help with their fear. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I just-"

"Stop." I whispered, but it was enough to silence him.

"I can't tell you." He said, sounding scared of whatever memory was living in his mind. It was terrifying how your memories haunted you like ghosts and tortured you more than anyone else could.

"Why not?" I pushed. "You know every little thing about me, without me even having to say the words. Why can't you tell me?" I asked.

"If I would have never heard your father that day... if I would have never seen the damage he's done... would you tell me?" He asked, and I opened my mouth to reply but closed it right after. Because I wouldn't. I would have endured and suffered in silence.

"Not so easy to say the words, is it?" He asked with a small, sad smile. I looked him in the eyes, seeing the way the memory of what happened seemed to effect him. He couldn't break free.

"No." I breathed out.

"I've been through shit, Liam." He confessed, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. "I've been through my own kind of hell, but I forget about it all when I'm with you. You make me want to feel. And I'm scared because I like the way I feel."

He said it so sincerely. His words seemed chosen carefully, so careful as if he was tiptoeing around the broken glass of the past. Because something had to have hollowed out his eyes. Something must've claimed his soul. There must be a voice lingering in his head. And I wondered what kind of bruises Zayn had that I couldn't see.  
\------------------------------------------------------

Zayn was quiet. So quiet all day long.

I don't think I've ever gone whole class periods without hearing his voice. It was surprising, but I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. I wasn't sure if I liked the silence. Yes, he still walked around with me, almost protectively, but he never spoke a word. Not even to his friends at lunch. He just sat there, staring at me as I spoke to Louis some more, and I did my best to ignore it.

But it still bothered me as I made it half way through my homework, re-reading the same question over and over again, not being able to comprehend it because there was too much in my mind. The whole conversation with Zayn.

"Liam!" I heard my dad's voice rip through the house as the front door opened and slammed shut. I jumped up from my bed, rushing to my dresser and attempting to push it back in front of the door, but he was too fast, throwing open my bedroom door and grabbing me by the shirt and hair. I yelped in pain as he pushed me to the wall, twisting my arm behind my back.

"You little fucking slut." He chuckled menacingly, and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to ignore the pain in my arm and the fear in my heart. It's been a while since he's hit me, and I didn't want to remember the pain.

"Did you think you could run away forever? Running away and committing fucking sins. Are you that fucking desperate and stupid that you'd give yourself away to someone for free?" He growled out. "Or maybe he fucking pays you. Like a dirty prostitute."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and yell and object to his words, but I couldn't. It'd make everything worse. And it made me wonder if Zayn actually gave me things because he cared or because it was a way to manipulate me into staying around for his torment. But what about the things he says?

"Like that fucking jacket." My dad added, and then he pushed me away as he turned to look at my room. "What else did he give you?" He asked, going to my bedside table and looking through it, knocking things aside and beginning to wreck my room.

"What else!?" He yelled, going over to my dresser and dumping all of the drawers out before he started making his way to my bed. I kept Zayn's jacket behind my pillow.

"Nothing!" I yelled. "Stop! Please." I said, seeing him turn to me with hate, glaring at me for yelling at him.

"What did you say to me?" He asked, his tone icy cold.

"Stop." I whispered, avoiding his eyes and looking down at the floor instead.

"You're telling me to stop?" He chuckled. "You must be even more stupid that I thought you were. It's a damn shame your mum sees something in you." He said, and I whimpered as he grabbed my face with a harsh hand.

"See this?" He asked, holding up a lighter in his other hand, and I nodded in fright, thinking of what he could do with it.

"One burn." He said, flicking it on. "If you yell, that's another one. So shut up."

I eyes the flame as he brought it close to the skin of my neck. I was breathing heavily, terrified of the pain it would bring. And then I was feeling it.

I clenched my teeth and took deep breaths as the pain seemed to blister throughout my body. I groaned in pain, trying not to scream, but I failed as my dad dug his nails into my arm, causing my mouth to fall open in a loud shriek of pain.

My dad tsked before speaking. "I'm disappointed in you, Liam. All you had to do was not scream. Oh well. Another won't hurt." He said, lifting up the lighter before placing it where my shoulder and neck met, and I gritted my teeth together at the contact.

I wouldn't scream. I couldn't scream. I felt like nothing would come out if I did. The pain was excruitiating. He dug into my arm again, and I bit down on my lip to keep quiet. I felt the blood begin to flow free from how hard I was biting down, and it seemed like an eternity before he let me go, dropping me down to the floor in my weak state.

"Might wanna take care of those." He said, putting his lighter up and pulling out a small piece of paper. He threw it at me and said "Your mum wants you to pick those up from the store. Might want to do it now."

He smiled at me, a truly wicked grin, before walking out of my room and shutting the door behind him. I looked at the list, seeing that it was all of the ingredients she would need for her dinner party she was having tomorrow. The one I forgot about.

I laid there on the floor for a while longer, afraid that my dad might come back if I move. It was an irrational fear, but it seemed to be working.

If only it worked for the pain inside as well.  
\------------------------------------------------------

I was walking up and down the aisles in search of the last item on my mum's list. She wanted a specific kind of bread that seemed to be a hard one to find.

I finally saw it, thankful that I made it in time because there was only one left. I rushed to pick it up, but I was left empty-handed as an older woman walked by and grabbed it, looking at me with a pointed look before walking away. What was I suppose to do now?

"Here you go, mate." I heard a voice say. I turned to the person handing me a bag of the exact same bread, shocked as I recognized him from his night out with Louis. Harry.

He was definitely tall, but it didn't feel like he was intimidating. He carried a friendly vibe to him, and I found myself thankful for that as I stared into his green eyes that held so much life and happiness. It must be amazing to have.

"Thanks." I said, accepting the bread from his outstretched hand and putting it into my basket.

"You're welcome. I don't understand why people get so handsy over items. There's always more in the back." He said, and it was then that I realized he was dressed in a work uniform, restocking shelves.

"I guess people just like winning, you know." I said, and he smiled in agreement before holding out his hand.

"I'm Harry. Harry Styles." He introduced himself as I shook his hand.

"I know." I said, freezing as soon as I said it because that sounded weird. I didn't want him to think I was some stalker. And I couldn't brush it off as just reading his name tag because he didn't seem to be wearing one. I was sure Louis would be stressed over the fact that I actually spoke to Harry, but I didn't want to seem creepy.

"Um, I mean, I know Louis. And he, um, he's mentioned you." I said, probably sounding stupid but Harry just laughed out of joy. It was an enjoyable sound. He seemed so full of life and love. It was incredible to witness, and I understood how Louis could be so enamoured by him.

"He has?" He asked quietly, blushing a bit as he gave out a dimpled smile. It could only be defined as adorable. He was great for Louis.

"Yeah. You're really all he talked about at times." I said, not sure if I was suppose to confess that, but I did. It was true. Any other time Louis talks to me, besides lunch time, Harry's name pops up in the conversation at least once.

"He's great. Amazing actually." Harry gushed. "And, um, just out of curiosity, do you know about what he has planned this weekend? We're going out, but he won't tell me where." He said, and I knew a few things about it.

I knew that Louis was suppose to take him somewhere special to them, I knew that he bought him a present, amd I knew that he was going to confess that he loved him, and I couldn't ruin all of that.

"It's going to be a night to remember." That was all I said as I waved goodbye, walking away from him.

"Wait, you never said your name?" He pointed out. "I'm just excited and really want to know because I never met one of Lou's friends before." He admitted. I knew why. Louis didn't want Harry to hate him for the things he's done. And that made me think of Zayn. Did he have similar reasons why he wanted to keep me in the dark? Or is my dad right and he's just using me somehow?

"Liam." I said, seeing him smile kindly before bidding me goodbye and getting back to work. I went to buy all of the items and started walking back home, shivering from the cold. 

I couldn't wear any of the jackets Zayn gave me. My dad would see them and take them away like the other one. I couldn't have that, and it made me feel a bit pathetic.

I got back home, putting up everything I bought before making my way to my room, glad that my dad was too focused on whatever show he was watching in my parents room.

I went to my room, seeing the mess that my dad made still strewn about the room, and I didn't have enough will in me to fix any of it. I only went to the restroom, getting ready for bed, and I stopped as I saw the burns on my neck. I knew the fabric of anything I wore would irritate the skin, but I had to cover it up. I couldn't let anyone see.

I thought about mine and Zayn's conversation today. We both hid things from the world, but every now and them I overflowed while Zayn seemed to drain his problems all away. Where did they go though?

Words are hard to say.

It was how I truly felt. And Zayn gave it another meaning today. The words were harder to say to someone than having them figure it out for themselves.

I looked in the mirror, eyeing the burns on my neck, and I took a deep breath, my eyes already filling with tears as I choked out the few words that I've never truly spoken aloud. The words I've never truly admitted unless it as absentmindedly.

"My father abuses me." I began, taking a deep breath as I forced eye contact with myself. "I don't eat enough." I said, feeling my whole body begin to shake. "I hate who I am." I whispered out weakly. "And I hate that he makes me want to do better." I confessed so quietly that even I questioned if I said it or not. But it was the terrifying truth. How? How could it be? He only caused me pain.

He makes me want to get better.


	20. Depend

It was getting late, and the collar of the stupid tux I had to wear was irritating the burns on my neck. I was glad it covered them, but I felt like they were still visible for every one to see. The very idea of sitting with my dad and acting like one big happy familg was sickening. It was twisted, and I didn't understand why I had to be a part of this dinner.

"Liam, I found the perfect tie for your suit." My mum said as she walked into the room with a shopping bag in hand. She was still arranging some last minute touches, and I admired how hard she worked.

"Oh, sweetheart." She gasped out, holding her hands to her mouth as a smile filled her lips. "You look amazing." She said, grabbing the tie and placing it around my shoulder before beginning to tie it. I flinched as the tie rubbed against the collar, pushing down into the burnt skin.

"Are you okay?" My mum asked quickly, looking me in the eyes with worry, and I gulped. I didn't like lieing to my mum. I hated it. I hated the dirty feeling it gave me because she was always so truthful and encouraging with me. How could I lie to her?

But it was to keep her happy.

"I'm fine. Just nervous." I lied, shame filling me as she smiled and straightened out the tie.

"Don't be. You're my gorgeous boy. I love you, Liam. Have ever since the doctor laid you in my arms." She said, kissing my cheek, and I smiled a fake smile for her sake. Her words were killing me inside.

"I love you, too, mum." I said softly, seeing her smile with pride, and we both turned to mt door as my dad stood there, fully dressed up as well. He would be putting on an act tonight. He would pretend he didn't hit me and beat me until I was bleeding onto the basment floors. He would pretend none of it ever happened. But I couldn't say he'd play nice.

"The cake you ordered from the shop is here." He informed, and my mum nodded at the news.

"Great. I'll go check it out." She answered before kissing my cheek once more and smiling at the both of us as she walked to my door. "Both of you look great. I'm so happy." She said, kissing my dad's cheek as well before she left us alone.

It grew silent between us as my dad looked at me with hatred in his eyes, and I averted my gaze, staring down at my shoes. I felt so weird dressing up just to eat at my own home, but I felt like I liked decent.

"You may look like a man, but you're not." My dad said with a small laugh. "You'll always be a worthless bitch."

His words made me flinch, and I knew he noticed. I could hear the smirk in his voice as he said "Even dressed up you still look like crap. But I guess it'll have to do. See you out there... son." He spat the word out as if it was poison on his tongue, and I felt sorrow overcome me because I haven't heard him call me that in so long. And it's been longer than that since he's said it with pride and love.

Son. How could such a simple word mean so much?

I watched as he walked away, leaving my bedroom door open, and I looked in the mirror again; the little bit of confidence I worked up over the past couple hours diminished in the blink of an eye. And I realized why I looked for the damage instead of looking at who I was.

Because the damage is who I am; my reflection is who I was.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, so your dad will sit at the head of the table, I'm sitting on his left, and you'll be on his right. Mr. Adams, my boss, will be at the opposite head of the table with his wife and daughter, and then Mr. and Mrs. Marshall will sit on this side while Julie and Austin, those are the secretaries, will sit on the opposite side by you." My mum explained as I helped her set the table.

I wasn't really listening, but I pretended to be as I set down the plates and napkins as she set down forks, spoons, and knives. I don't know where my dad was. Probably having a drink or two before this whole dinner started. He did that every now and then when we held events like this. It's been that way ever since my ninth birthday.

"Liam?" My mum called my name, sounding a bit worried again.

"Huh?" I said dumbly before realizing that was a disrespectful response. "Sorry. What did you ask, mum?" I questioned. She smiled at my ways and shook her head slightly.

"I was just asking if you could bring the cake over from the fridge. I want to put it in the center of the table." She said, taking out a fancy little cover to go over the top of it, and I nodded.

I made my way to the kitchen, going to the fridge and opening it up to see the red velvet and chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf. I picked it up carefully, making sure that I wouldn't ruin anything on it. I closed the fridge behind me and was walking out of the kitchen when I walked straight into my dad, or rather he walked into me as I tried to stop and avoid him.

I froze as the cake fell from my hands, falling on him and ruining his tuxedo. And I knew he was pissed. Just from his heavy breathing, I knew. I knew I would pay for it later.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologized, looking over at my mum's upset face, but she wasn't mad. She was almost never mad.

"What the hell did you do?" My dad yelled, and he was so angry that his face was turning red as he balled his fists, attempting to restrain himself from hitting me in front of my mum. I've never seen him like this.

"It's okay. He didn't mean it." My mum said, walking over to us, but my dad was livid.

"Stay out of this, Karen." He said, turning back to me. "You ruined this dinner. I knew you would ruin it. You ruin everything." He said, his words slurring a bit, and I knew he was out drinking.

"Geoff!" My mum scolded, pulling his arm back. "I can drive to pick up another cake. And you can change into another tux. It's not a big deal." She argued.

"Your boss will be here any minute and this damn stain will never come out. It's not my fault our son's a fucking screw up." He argued back, and I felt like disappearing, hiding away from this fight between my parents.

"Don't say that. Don't you dare say that!" My mum yelled. "You've been drinking. I hate when you do that." She said, and I heard her on the verge of tears.

"And I hate when you defend him." He snarled, spitting out the last word in complete rage. "I don't even want to look at his damn face right now." He stated menacingly.

"Stop it! He's our son, and-"

"Mum, it's okay." I whispered, but it was enough to make her stop speaking. She turned to me with a sad smile and tried to reach out to comfort me. I pulled away, looking down at the ground as I spoke.

"I- I don't really wanna be here right now. I'm sorry about the cake. And the tux. I'm sorry for messing everything up." I said, walking toward the door as quickly as I could.

"Liam, sweetheart, no-" My mum said, and I opened the door, coming face to face with a girl that was just about to knock. The boss' daughter. And I paused, looking at her and seeing her blush a bit. She was pretty, but there was no attraction. But I wished there was. Because then I wouldn't be such a screw-up. Then my dad wouldn't hate me.

"Excuse me." I mumbled out before slipping past the three of them and walking down the driveway, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

I felt the tears in my eyes as I walked away from my mum, hearing her call my name. My heart hurt more than my body ever could. More than the burns that constantly hurt from clothing. More than the confusion and self-doubt. Because never have I felt like my mum was disappointed. Never until now.

I heard my mum mumble excuses as to why I was leaving. Things close to "he had a bad day" and "he's just not feeling well right now" and they weren't far off.

But it wasn't just a bad day. It was a bad hand in the game of life. It was abuse and starvation. It was hatred and disgust. It was pain and suffering. It was a broken window. It was a cracked mirror. It was whistles on the wind. A secret untold. It was destruction. It was a flame... and the flame was growing weak.  
\------------------------------------------------------

I don't know why I ended up at Zayn's front door, but I knew what I was thinking. I was thinking that I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel anything besides the hollow feeling I had inside of me. Anything besides the constant irritation of my burns; a continuous reminder of my shame and worthlessness. Anything but the tormented soul trapped in chains.

I knocked on the door, wrapping my arms together in front of my chest, shaking from how much my heart raced at what I was doing. I felt tears building up, and I did my best to hold them back as the cold wind blew all around me, making me feel so numb, so empty.

The door opened to his aunt in a t-shirt and leggings, looking at me before concern filled her features.

"Liam? What happened to you dear?" She asked, and I couldn't speak. I knew I would break down as soon as I tried to say anything about it. All I could whisper out was Zayn's name.

"Zayn!" His aunt called before turning back to me. "Come inside, sweetie. It's cold out there." She said, stepping aside, and I looked behind me, remembering the long and harsh walk here as I attempted to avoid the evil thoughts that filled my mind.

"What is it?" Zayn asked, and I bit my lip as he came into view, doing all I could not to have a proper breakdown in their living room.

His eyes drifted over to me before there was pure worry and concern. He rushed over to me, holding onto my arms as he looked over me, observing me, and I knew what he was looking for. Damage. But he only had to look at my eyes to see it all.

"Is there anything you need, Liam? Anything at all?" His aunt asked, but I was still to hurt, still too numb to answer. And Zayn knew that.

"We're just gonna go to my room. I'll see you later. Goodnight." Zayn said before putting his arm around me and leading me down the hall to his room. He shut the door and locked it as soon as we were inside, turning to me with anger and distress. "What happened? What happened, princess?" He whispered out, pulling me into his arms as soon as I started to break down.

My tears fell down my cheeks, wetting Zayn's bare shoulder as he was only in sweatpants, probably planning to lay in bed for the rest of the night. I felt guilty for showing up and ruining whatever plans he had. But I didn't want to leave.

I felt warm. Warm and cared for in Zayn's arms. I slowly calmed down as he rubbed my arms, and I felt foolish for showing up in a goddamn tux. But Zayn didn't make me feel that way. He only made my heart beat wildly as I inhaled his scent and heard him whisper words of comfort in my ear.

"It's okay. It's okay, beautiful." He whispered out, hugging me tightly to him. "I hate seeing you cry. It should be illegal for someone to make you cry. You're lovely, princess."

I didn't believe his words, but I wanted to. I heard the sincerity in his voice, but it didn't outweigh all of the doubt and vile words of how worthless I am.

"He can't hurt you here. I promise. I want to protect you. Fuck, I wish I was there to protect you." He confessed, hugging me with both arms as he kissed my forehead gently, a motion that made my heart flutter and my eye close, liking the feeling of being wanted. Almost cherished.

It was silent as Zayn rocked us back and forth before we moved to lay down, and I took a deep breath before I lifted my head up, kissing him hesitantly. 

I was so terrified. Terrified of how much I felt. Terrified to admit it to myself. Terrified of making the first move and showing my true emotions through it. Because I knew Zayn would only change his ways again soon, creating another scar across my heart.

He kissed me back, pouring such empowering emotions into the kiss yet treating it with such care. He was gentle, reaching his hand up to caress my cheek and pull me closer. He pulled away a few seconds later, and the feeling of being a mistake, a failure, nothing, came back in a rush.

"What happened, Liam?" He whispered, and I was thankful for it. I was thankful for the dark room that made me feel like nobody would know my secrets. I was thankful for being in Zayn's bed because of the warmth and comfort I felt. I was thankful for how softly he spoke, being cautious but not afraid.

"I messed up." I simply stated.

"You can tell me." Zayn said, pecking my lips once more before his fingers moved up to play with a few strands of my hair. "I want to help you, love."

My heart froze in my chest as I gulped at the pet name. I wanted to trust Zayn, but I was so afraid.

"I didn't know if I could come here." I confessed, absent-mindedly busying myself by drawing patters on Zayn's skin, only realizing it when he shivered and inhaled deeply under my touch.

"Why?" He questioned. "You can always come to me. Any time. Day or night."

"You didn't talk to me yesterday." I reminded him. The silence made me doubt anything Zayn felt. Being ignored was hard for me, but Zayn made it feel like eternal suffering. "I didn't think you'd want to talk to me today either." I admitted, looking away from his stunning eyes.

He lifted my chin up so I was looking at him and smiled slightly. "Of course I do. I never get tired of your voice. I just didn't know what to say to you. Because you wanted to end this, and I was afraid you would."

"I never wanted to end this." I whispered out in a breathless voice.

Zayn's gaze was intense as he looked me in the eyes, holding the contact for what felt like forever before he slowly leaned in to me. I felt his lips against mine, not kissing but touching. It was still enough to set my skin on fire and make my heart pound louder than any drum.

"Liam, I..." He began, trailing off before changing his mind from what he was going to say. "When I was ten I dropped my mum's flower vase on the kitchen floor. Glass flew everywhere and cut up my feet and legs. It hurt, and I still have a few scars." He said, making me wonder why he was talking about this.

"But this hurts more. Seeing you cry. Being away from you." He was silent for a while, adding pressure where our foreheads met and nuzzling his nose with mine before closing his eyes. "But nothing hurts more than having you this close. So close. So beautiful. So damaged."

He opened his eyes and looked at me, a new emotion behind the many familiar ones in his eye. What was it?

"Are you staying tonight?" He asked, seeming like it was hard for him to ask as his tone lingered between hope and desperation.

"I don't know." I admitted. My mum would be upset. My dad would be outraged. But none of that seemed to matter when I was this close to Zayn, when he was looking me in the eyes with so much held in the beautiful orbs.

"Please stay." He whispered, and I barely got out an 'okay' before he was pressing his lips to mine again. It was gentle, that's how it started out, but it turned into pure desperation and longing as I felt all of the pain build up inside of me. I was so hurt, and I just wanted to be loved.

I pulled him closer, laying almost on top of him as I out all I had within the kiss, and Zayn gave the exact same amount, if not more, back to me. It was magical, but still not enough.

"Liam." Zayn said softly, pulling away as he felt me shaking in his hold. I was trying not to cry again. I was trying not to break down even more. But I felt cared for with Zayn, and the part of me that believed it all to be too good to be true, the part that knew this must be an act, consumed me.

I could feel his eyes on me as I kept mine close, not strong enough to even dare to look at him. "Let's get you ready for bed, princess." He said, peeling the jacker off of my arms and throwing it onto the floor before he began to slip off my shoes and socks. I was sitting in his lap and couldn't help the blush that filled my cheeks at how careful he was being; how intimate this felt.

"You look lovely in a suit." He commented, lifting my hand up and pressing a kiss to the back of it, a simple action that made me gulp, struggling to keep my emotions down.

He tugged at my tie to undo it, and I flinched in pain. His eyes shot to mine, which were now open in shame. Zayn's held held a dark look, an angry look, as he undid the tie, throwing it with the jacket before unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it off of my arms, his gaze stuck on my neck. Stuck on the burns.

His hands shook as he lifted them to the bruises, rubbing his thumb against one and making me flinch again. "What did he do to you?" He questioned between clenched teeth.

"He used a lighter." I explained quietly. "He said it would only be one if I didn't scream."

The look in Zayn eyes was scary, but I knew the pure hate and abhorrence wasn't toward me. Still, it was like he was lost in the madness, swimming in anger behind his brown eyes. I saw him clench his jaw, but he didn't tighten his grip on me. He was still so careful not to hurt me in his anger.

"It's okay, Zayn." I said, but that only seemed to set him off.

"No. No, you don't deserve this. Fuck, I know I hurt you, I've been hurting you, and you can hate me for that, but this... this is too far." He said, lightly touching the burn marks again, not enough to hurt but enough to make me shudder. "If I see that asshole, I swear to God, I'll-"

"Stop." I begged, not even wanting to think about Zayn facing my dad. I didn't want there to even be a possibility he'd be hurt. "It's okay." I said again, playing with the small hairs by the nape of his neck.

"It's not." He stated, looking up at me with sorrow. And I didn't reply. I only stared at him in silence, ny heart beat so loud I could hear it in my ears. His eyes stayed on my neck, still so angry about the burns.

"It's okay." I repeated in a whisper before I captured his lips with mine. He seemed to relax, his body untensing as he kissed me back tenderly.

He pulled away all too quickly, eyeing my burns again, and I gasped when he pressed a kiss to the top one, right along the column of my neck. The feel of his lips on such a sensitive area made me want to cry out. I've never felt anything like this.

"It's okay." I repeated, but I didn't know who I was saying it for anymore. Myself or Zayn?

He moved to the lower burn between my shoulder and neck, leaving behind several kisses on the clear skin between the two, every single one making me shiver and gasp and sigh. He finally pressed a kiss to the second burn, pausing to gauge my reaction. It wasn't bad. It wasn't bad at all.

I froze when he latched onto my skin with his lips, sucking and biting so softly, and I closed my eyes as the feeling made my head spin. I didn't even recognize the moan that fell from my lips, but it made Zayn stop, looking up at me in pure lust, but there was still clarity in his eyes.

"You're perfect, princess." He whispered, kissing my lips again, and I felr his tongue trail along my body lip, the first time he's asked for entrance, and I granted it almost too easily.

His tongue worked into my mouth, licking at the roof of it before prodding my own to come alive. But I was nervous. So nervous. I've never done any of this before, and I was terrified of messing up.

I pulled away, looking down at where I was sitting on his legs, the butterflies going wild in my stomach. "What's wrong? Is it too much?" He asked in fear, and I shook my head. It wasn't too much. It wasn't even enough.

"I've never...." I trailed off, embarrassed at my lack of experience. Nobody's ever taken an interest in me. Even just kissing Zayn, small pecks on the lips, was new to me.

"We don't have to." He assured. "We can just kiss how we usually do."

"I want to." I confessed, pushing myself for it. I just didn't know how. And Zayn knew that.

"Just do what feels right, princess." He whispered before kissing me again, waiting until I relaxed before begging for entrance. I opened my mouth as easily as the first time and closed my eyes, letting myself feel instead of think.

I flicked my tongue against his, gaining confidence as I heard a groan leave his mouth. And then we were full on snogging, tongue and teeth clashing every now and then, but it was amazing.

I felt a warmth building near my abdomen, an unusually pleasureable feeling that I've never felt before. And I whimpered as I realized that I was getting hard. I was so embarrassed as I tried to pull myself off of Zayn's lap.

"Don't be embarrassed." He whispered, holding me in place by my thighs. I was only glad for the layrs of clothing between us.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, and he shook his head.

"Don't be. You have no idea how much I want to make you feel good. I'm aching for it, love." He said, and I noticed the tent in his sweatpants, his boner even more prominent than my own, and I blushed harder.

"I- I'm not... I'm not ready for that yet, Zayn. I just-" I stumbled out, and he shushed me calmly.

"Shh. I know." He said. "I know you're not. I won't force you. It's okay " He said, smiling up at me. "I like you, Liam. I don't need this. You deserve someone who will cherish you. Someone who you love. And whoever he is, he'll be the luckiest guy ever."

He said it all with a smile, but I heard the pain in his voice, and I wished I could feel how he felt. I wish I knew what pain he felt. I wish I understood.

"Who hurt you?" I asked, something I've been wondering for so long.

"Someone. It's not important." He said, still smiling, and I felt the raw emotion as his eyes began to water, but he was so good at holding back tears.

"Yes it is. Because whatever they said to you, you believe it. You still do. And I don't know if what they said is true." I said, wanting to be there for him like he's been for me.

"It is." He whispered. "All of it is... but it doesn't change how I feel toward you. It doesn't change the fact that whatever this is... whatever's going on between us... is real."

"It doesn't feel real." I said. It didn't. It felt too good. It felt too right. Nothing was suppose to be this way. "It feels like it could disappear."

"It won't. I won't let it." He confirmed. "I'll protect you, princess."

He kissed me again, just a simple kiss, and then laid us back down. He slipped off my pants before getting up from the bed and walking to his closet. "Do you want sweats?" He asked, rummaging through his clothes.

"Um... could I wear a jacket?" I asked, feeling so small again. And so cold without Zayn.

I saw him smile as he nodded, pulling one of his jackets off of a hanger and walking back over to me. I took it from him and shrugged it on, loving the warmth it provided.

"You're stunning." Zayn said, kissing me once more, and I yawned as he pulled away, making him laugh.

"Go to sleep, princess." He whispered, kissing my temple and laying beside me. He covered us with the blanket and held me close.

"I'm not sleepy." I said, fighting back another yawn. I didn't want to sleep yet. Because I would wake up and have to go back home to my mum and dad. I didn't want that.

"Then what do you want to do?" He asked, and I thought about it for a second before replying.

"Just talk." I mumbled out, sleep already clouding my brain, but I didn't want to give in. "Just talk to me."

"About what?" He asked, and I knew he was lost. We were both terrible at having conversation. We could fight, we could ask questions, but we never just conversed.

"Anything." I said, but Zayn didn't speak. I didn't care. Just laying here was enough for now. But the silence was something I didn't want to hear. So I spoke instead, confessing my childish dreams in my sleepy state.

"You know, I always wanted to live life like a fairytale." I mumbled out, hiding my face in Zayn's neck. "But that never happened. Because princesses aren't covered in scars and bruises. They never have to go through this much pain. They always have someone who loves them. The whole world is never against them. And none of them have to deal with sexuality. None of them ever feel this empty inside." I drawled out.

"Those stories are made-up. And this is real life. Real life hurts." I confessed.

"That's why I want to be here for you. That's what you deserve. You deserve your fairytale. Because all of those princesses are nothing compared to you. Your so strong, princess. And I... I just want to take care of you." He whispered.

"What happens when you disappear? What happens when you find someone you aren't ashamed of? Someone you don't have to hide?" I asked. And I knew these questions were too deep, but I couldn't stop them from coming out, not with how sleepy I was. "What happens when you realize I really am worthless?"

"That won't happen. It'll never happen." He promised, but his words sound so far away as sleep overtook me. "You're worth more than all of the money in the world. And I don't deserve you, no matter how much I want you."

"You make me believe this is okay."

And that was the last thing I heard before I slipped away to darkness, welcoming any dreams that would come in the night. And I felt safe and warm. I was protected from the flames of the world in his arms.

I only wished things could stay this way forever.


	21. Stay

I woke up early in the morning, seeing that the clock read 4:30 a.m. I was exhausted, but I didn't want to close my eyes again. I didn't want to lose this moment.

I was wrapped in Zayn's arms, and I was half-way laying on his chest, feeling his body heat and hearing the lovely metronomic thump thump thump of his heart beat. It was soft and lulling, much like the purest love song. It was better than watching a sunrise. It was real and you could feel it. Much like the wind.

I shifted a bit so I was looking up at Zayn, admiring ever single feature, my eyes meticulously scanning his face. And Zayn was, without a doubt, beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that caused envy. The kind of beautiful I wish I was because then maybe people wouldn't hate me so much.

I lifted my hand up, lightly touching his jaw with my fingertips, unable to believe he was real. His hair was in disarray, but it still seemed perfect. His eyes were closed gently, his eyelashes fluttering every now and then in his sleep, and I took a deep breath as I leaned up, touching our noses and foreheads together, something that made my stomach flip whenever Zayn did it. It was just a cute action.

I pulled away before looking at his lips, lifting up a finger to trace the outline if them as I remembered how he kissed me last night. It was new. It was exhilarating. It was everything I ever dreamed of.

I saw his lips slowly form a small smile before his eyes fluttered open. He looked me in the eyes, traces of admiration shining brightly in his. "What are you doing?" He questioned, his morning voice low and husky as he pulled me closer, my head resting in the crook of his neck.

"Nothing." I breathed out. Why couldn't it always be this easy? Why couldn't this just be our own little world? Why did reality have to ruin everything? But I shouldn't be thinking this way. This was dangerous to think. I couldn't get attached like this. I shouldn't.

"Why are you up so early?" Zayn asked, his lips moving against the side of my head, his hand ruffling through my hair along with his words.

"Just didn't want to sleep anymore." I stated, leaving it at that. There was too much going on in my life to worry about sleeping. There was too much to think about. And right here, in Zayn's arms, there was too much to feel. Everything was just too much.

"Okay." He said, probably knowing that there was more to it, but he didn't push or pry. "What do you want to do then?" He asked, placing a gentle kiss on my head.

"Just talk." I said. I really just wanted to know him. The real him. Not who he pretends to be. Not the secrets he hides. "I want to know you." I confessed. "Like you know me."

"I don't know you." He said, making me laugh against his skin at the lie, but I stopped laughing as I felt him shiver at the feel of my breath against his skin. One of the most sensitive parts of his neck.

"You know more about me than I know about you." I said lightly, raising my hand to trace the outline of Zayn's collarbone. It was such a lovely piece of him, and I gulped before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the sculpted and prominent skin.

I felt him shiver again, causing a sense of pride to erupt within me. I looked up at Zayn, seeing him looking down at me already. He pressed his forehead to mine, his fingers playing with the hair right behind my ear as he looked in my eyes, a smile on his lips. A real smile.

"I would kiss you, but I have morning breath." He said, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was trying to enjoy this moment while it lasted. So, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

I felt him kiss back after a second of shock, and the nerves I felt gradually slipped away. And the kiss wasn't bad. I didn't mind the slight bitter taste much because it was Zayn, it was the only person to ever make me feel actually cared for and liked. He seemed to like me for me, something I would never understand, and kissing him felt so right. But that was a cautious thought.

I pulled back, resting my head back into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair. Everyrhing felt so calm and relaxed, even the world outside still seemed to be asleep. It was as if we were the only things awake; the only things alive. This little time of quietness was ours to own. I didn't want to waste it.

"Are you sleepy again?" He asked after a few more minutes of silence, and I shook my head.

"Not at all." I mumbled out, resting my hand on Zayn's chest and admiring the contrast of skin tones; his was a beautiful tan as mine was a bit lighter, fitting perfectly. "How about we play a game?" I suggested, my voice no louder than a whisper due to how early it was.

"What game?" He asked, shifting a bit but doing it so carefully as to not jostle me around too much, and I smiled slightly, the action feeling so foreign to me. 

I loved that he could make me smile.

"Something like twenty questions." I stated. "You ask a question, I answer, and vice versa. It can be anything. Simple or complex." I said, feeling nervous about Zayn's possible questions. I was also afraid he'd shut down the idea. He was usually the one asking questions while I felt pressured to answer them all.

I felt him swallow thickly before speaking. "Y-yeah. Okay." He agreed, and it was one of the first times I've heard Zayn stutter. "Who goes first?" He questioned.

"You." I replied, hoping it would help settle his worries if he got to ask the first questions. I'd let him set the grounds.

"Okay. Well..." He paused to think, and my skin tingled at the way his hand pushed up under the jacket I wore, running over the soft skin of my hip. I held in the shiver I felt and just let out a small, shaky breath. I hid my face deeper against his neck, trying to think of anything but how amazing his touch felt.

"Who was your first crush?" He asked, and I pulled back, looking up at him with my eyebrows raised.

"Why is that your first question?" I shot back, finding it weird and random, but Zayn smirked and said "Who's turn is it to ask the question here?"

I rolled my eyes before answering. "I don't know. I guess it was Kevin Spades in our fifth grade English class." I confessed, wanting to disappear at that moment.

"Why him?" He asked, and I was going to give a comment about how it was my turn to ask a question, but it seemed to really bother him.

"Because he was nice to me. He was the only kid to talk to me in that class. It sucked for a while when he moved." I said, remembering how I felt like I lost someone who truly cared about me. But I was wrong. We were young and it wasn't true care. This was. Being here with Zayn was. "Doesn't suck so much now." I whispered, seeing Zayn's stare turn intense.

"Who was your first crush?" I asked, attempting to change the subject and get the spotlight off of me. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

"You." He replied in a breathless voice, and my eyes snapped to his, seeing a smile on his lips. It was stunning in the dull lighting.

"W-what?" I stuttered out. Surely there was someone else down the line. There were so many better people. So many that Zayn could get in a heartbeat.

Zayn only sighed, pecking my lips once before moving on to his next question. "When did you start liking me?"

He voiced the question in a small voice, a bit of insecurity peaking through, and I was baffled by it. "I don't know." I answered truthfully. It was all a haze of emotions and actions. It was way too much back and forth, and a part of me was still hesitant about having feelings toward Zayn. He just made things so difficult and frustrating at times.

"Okay." He said, though I could hear the twinge of sadness in his tone. I didn't want him to be sad. I didn't want to ruin this moment like I seemed to ruin everything else.

"When you gave me your jacket." I confessed in a whisper, feeling so open and vulnerable. I wasn't use to the feeling yet. I wasn't use to any of the feelings Zayn gave me. "I didn't know it then, though. I think I knew it after you held me that night as my dad banged on my bedroom door. That's when I knew for sure."

"That night was horrible. I was scared for you. And I wanted to do whatever I could to protect you." He said, touching over my burns again. "I failed in the long run. I always do."

"It's not your fault. It's been going on for years and nobody's known. My mum hasn't figured it out, and after my dad's behavior last night, I know she'll have some questions for me, and I'll have to lie to her again." I explained. "I hate lieing to her."

"Then don't." He whispered, looking me in the eyes, pleading silently for me to tell her, but I couldn't. I was far too afraid. I would always be afraid.

"It's my turn." I said, looking away from Zayn's disappointed gaze.

"How does the song you wrote for your mum go?" I asked, taking it step by step into deeper territory. I didn't want to straight out asked him who hurt him and why. It would shut everything down.

"What part of it?" He replied in a small voice. I knew this was a sensitive topic, and it was obviously hard for him to tell anyone about the song in the first place.

"Any part. Your favorite part." I said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it to let him know he could tell me this. Not like I could say anything about it or tell anyone about it.

"Um... I guess it's 'always feared your disappointment, but you never let me fret. Held my hand and told me that you've been proud since the day we met. But I didn't live up to your expectations, sorry to say this, but there's no explanation. I blame it all on me.'" He said softly, his voice struggling to speak the words aloud.

He blamed himself. For whatever happened to him. He blamed it all on himself and believes his mum must be disappointed. It was the sad truth, and I wanted to know. I wanted to be able to heal the pain Zayn felt just as he seemed to heal mine.

"She's still proud, Zayn. She always will be." I reassured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, and he closed his eyes tightly before nodding.

"When was the last time you ate properly?" He asked, opening his eyes and looking into mine. This was a hard question for me. I didn't really even remember. So I stayed silent, seeing Zayn give me a sad smile as he kissed my forehead.

"You need to eat, love." He said. "I need you to be okay. I don't want to know what would happen if you just... if you continue this way." He said, true and raw emotions flooding through him. It was a side of Zayn that made my eyes water in shame of what I was doing to myself. I was harming myself, and I knew it, but I couldn't stop it.

"I can't." I whimpered out. "I w-want to, but I can't. I can't." I breathed in and out for a second, trying to calm myself down. I didn't want Zayn to judge me for this; I already judged myself. I was so ashamed of myself.

"Th-there's no point. I-I'll always be worthless. I'll always be judged and bullies by everyone around me. I'll never be good enough because you can't please people who refuse to accept your differences. There's a physical pain that gnaws at my stomach every time I even think of food, and it's not because I'm hungry. It's because I know that there's no point. You can't just tell me to eat." I cried out.

"I know. I know, princess. I'm sorry." Zayn instantly murmured, pressing kisses to my head. "I'm sorry. I just... I'm scared of losing you. It scares me more than anything. Because I lost someone I cared for once."

"You don't have to be sorry. And you don't have to be scared. I'm not leaving." I said, trying to comfort the thought that haunted his mind.

"You can't promise that. Sometimes we don't have a choice on whether or not we leave."

"I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving you." I promised, looking into his eyes even though mine were still wet with tears. I felt like he needed that validation. I don't know what he's been through, but I felt like his mum's death impacted his ability to keep people near.

"I hope not. Because I need you, princess. You're perfect." He spoke the words in such a sincere voice. It made me forget how to breath for a second. Nobody has ever seen me as perfect before. Maybe my mum, but she didn't know my flaws. Not like Zayn did.

"Who hurt you, Zayn? Honestly." I questioned. It seemed like Zayn was such a great person underneath the cover up and defenses he set up for himself. It was his protection, but it made him lose who he was.

"It doesn't matter." He replied. It was the same answer he gave me last time, and it was frustrating.

"It does matter. No matter how many times you say it doesn't, no matter how strongly you believe it doesn't, it always will. It's holding you back. Why can't you just tell me who?" I asked.

"Because I don't want to relive it. Okay?" He said, sounding as tired as I felt of this. "I worked so hard to push it away and block out the memories, and you keep trying to pry them out of me. I'm fine. I don't want to think about the past, so will you stop bringing it up?"

I flinched in his arms at his angry tone, and I knew he felt it as his face turned to one of sorrow. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get worked up."

I stayed silent, debating on whether I should move away from him or not, but I felt as if that would go against what I just promised him. So I moved closer instead. Closer- if that was even possible.

"I'm not trying to make you relive it. I just want to help you." I stated, my voice coming out stronger than I felt, which I was grateful for. "I know what hurt looks like Zayn. I've been through it. And whatever happened to you... I just want to make it better."

"You do." He whispered, bumping his nose with mine. It was cute, but I couldn't smile, not while this was such a serious discussion. "You make everything better by just being here. You make me forget, and I need that." He confessed.

"It gets frustrating, Zayn." I admitted. "It gets so aggravating. Because I tell you everything you want to know, but you can't tell me things because you're afraid. And I get that. I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me things."

"I trust you more than anyone else, Liam." He said, his strong hand moving to cup my cheek. "And I know it gets tiring to wait and my constant mood changes are frustrating... that's why I know you'll leave. Eventually."

"I won't." I promised, looking him in the eyes, and I watched, feeling my heart beat speed up as a smile graced his lips. It was a simple smile, but it was marvelous to me. It was a way of letting me know that we were okay. This was okay.

We weren't an item. We weren't together. Zayn wasn't my boyfriend, and I wasn't his. He was a comfort. He was safety. He was the arms that held me when I needed it. He was the only thing that made me feel. He was like a drug that I needed to survive, something that hazed up my mind but let me see clearly and hang onto hope. And I was his princess.

I leaned into him, pressing his forehead to mine and closing my eyes with a small sigh at how amazing it felt to be this close to him. It was the eigth wonder of the world, and I was the lucky one to discover it.

"Liam..." Zayn trailed off, and I opened my eyes, seeing him looking in mine. I waited patiently for him to continue on. "I have one more question."

"What is it?" I pushed, knowing that this game was coming to an end. It was ending, and I didn't discover anything.

Zayn turned onto his side, pulling me in closer and keeping our foreheads together as his arms wrapped around my waist. "Have you ever been in love?" He suddenly asked, and my eyes searched his, looking for the explanation behind the question. What prompted it?

Have I ever been in love?

I thought about it, the panic inside of me building up as I thought about the way my heart raced around him. The way I got nervous and didn't know what to say at times. How I accepted his excuses again and again. How I felt warm just thinking about the little things he did for me. How he held me, and I felt like things would be okay. But it couldn't be love. I hardly knew him.

"You don't have to answer now." He said softly, calming down the buzzing nerves inside of me as he pressed his lips to mine once again.

He pulled back way too soon, leaving me wanting more, but I would never admit it; I would never ask for it. "Sun's coming up." He mumbled, his gaze set on the window, and the words made my heart sink. Our time was ending, and reality was returning.

"I don't want today to start." I whispered against his skin, leaving a small kiss there, loving the way his skin tensed at the touch of my lips. It was fascinatingly beautiful.

"Neither do I." He said, and we laid there with each other, just breathing in each other's scent, sharing small kisses, and holding on to each and every second that passed by as our time ticked away.

Why did cherished moments seem to fade away with the sunrise? Why couldn't nighttime stay?


	22. Beneath

"Good morning. How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Zayn's aunt asked as soon as we walked into the dining room. She looked at me with such care, and I felt sorry for coming here and worrying her last night.

"I'm okay. Thanks." I said, though it was partly a lie. I was terrified of going back home. I knew my mum was probably upset that I just left; I knew she would ask me questions. I didn't want to lie to her face anymore, but I also didn't want to expose her to the horror of her marriage.

"I've almost finished making all of the pancakes. Your plates are done, and there's berries in the fridge if you want any." She informed us, and Zayn nodded, motioning for me to sit at the table while he went over to her. He kissed her on the cheek, whispering something in her ear, and then grabbed two plates. He walked over to me, setting the plate down in front of me.

"Do you want any berries, Liam?" He asked, and I could hear the hope in his tone. It was a hope that I would ask for some, that I'd magically be able to eat everything that I was offered. It was a useless hope.

"No thank you." I whispered, wanting to cry from shame as Zayn sighed and nodded, leaving to go and get some berries for himself. I stared down at my plate, the fluffy pancakes reminding me of my childhood, when everything was so calm and simple. Before I knew what true pain was.

I watched as the thick syrup made clumps at the sides of the pancakes, sliding down the stack and making my stomach twist in displeasure. All of the butter and fat and unhealthiness made me want to push the plate away and leave, but before I could, Zayn was sitting at my size with a carton of blackberries and two cups of orange juice. His aunt sat across from us, her own plate of food and a cup of coffee in her hands.

"Maybe Zayn could show you the music room or the garden after you've finished eating." She suggested, taking a sip of coffee before setting it down and cutting up her pancakes. I watched as the syrup stuck between the cut off piece and the rest of the pancake. It seemed to try to cling onto itself before it lost a part of it.

I looked down at my plate of food, feeling Zayn's gaze on me, and I noticed he hasn't even begun eating. I saw his aunt look up at us with a questioning look, and Zayn only shook his head at her before leaning in to me.

"Please eat, Liam." He pleaded gently, and the shame and guilt filled me up again. I felt myself shaking as I tried to hold myself together infront of his aunt. I didn't want anyone else to know my secret.

"I-I c-can't, Zayn. It's too hard." I mumbled out, not looking away from the plate of food that seemed to mock and taunt me.

"Look at me." He said, lifting his hand to my face. "Please look at me, princess." He whispered, and I turned to him, seeing so much pain in his eyes, and I knew it was because of me. Because, as much as I denied it, as much as he denied it, he truly cared. "Just one bite, yeah? One bite at a time. You can do this. I know you can."

I looked back down at the plate, ignoring the way his aunt looked at me in worry. I didn't want that pity. I didn't need it.

I picked up my fork and swallowed thickly before cutting into the pancake, pushing myself to continue my actions as the syrup seemed to ooze into the holes I was making. I finally cut off a piece, took a deep breath, and pulled it off of the fork and into my mouth.

I fought myself to keep it in, to not spit it out or shove my finger down my throat as I swallowed it. I saw Zayn's aunt look back down at her plate, chopping off another piece, and butterflies erupted in my stomach as Zayn pressed a kiss to the bit of my neck that was showing before resting his forehead on the side of my head. I felt the smile on his lips as he whispered "I'm proud of you."

That was the first time I've heard those words in a while.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Thank you for the breakfast, Ms. Malik." I said. We were both sitting in the living room as Zayn had offered to wash the dishes for his aunt; I only ate half of my meal. She was a rather kind lady, and I knew she loved Zayn unconditionally. There's no doubt she's still love him if he confessed the things he's done.

"Oh, sweetheart, you can call me Colette. And you're welcome." She smiled, flipping to another page of some pottery magazine she was reading, and I wondered if she was the one behind Zayn's seemingly natural artistic talents.

"But, you know, I should be the one thanking you." She said, closing the magazine, leaving her thumb on the page to hold her spot.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, wondering what I did that needed to be appreciated. As far as I knew, I was a burden among everyone. I've only been told so countless times.

"Zayn hasn't been this happy in so long." She sighed. "I worry about him a lot, but you seem to make him happy." She smiled at me before sitting upright and continuing. "He's been through a lot. So much, that boy. And I can tell he's afraid, but I can also tell that you help to ease those fears. Please don't hurt him." She pleaded.

I wanted to tell her everything. How even though he hurt me, I would never hurt him. But then I thought about the obvious pain in his eyes when I couldn't eat. I remembered when he said I hurt him all the time. So how was I not suppose to hurt him when everything I did affected him?

Still, I nodded my head and a thankful smile graced her lips. I could tell it meant a lot to her, but I had no clue what Zayn's even been through. I watched as she leaned back into the chair again and opened up the magazine. I worked up the courage to ask her, feeling as if everything depended on this question.

"What happened to him?" I questioned, seeing her look up in surprise that I spoke up. I was usually being talked to or thanking her for something.

She gave me a sad smile and began to talk. "Well, he-" That was all she got out before Zayn walked into the room.

"Finished all of the dishes and put them away." He announced, and she thanked him for doing it before looking back at the magazine. I watched as Zayn came over to sit beside me, and he suddenly looked very nervous.

"Can I show you something?" He asked, biting his lip as he awaited an answer. I saw his aunt looking up at us from her magazine, and I nodded, allowing Zayn to take my hand and lead me away from the living room.

I knew it was only his aunt in the living room, but the fact that he held my hand in front of someone gave me high hopes that I knew I shouldn't have. I couldn't hope for that type of affection from him. I didn't even know if I would be okay with that in public.

We paused in front of a door nead the end of the hall, and Zayn pushed it open, allowing me to walk inside first. The first thing I saw was the grand piano in the corner of the room, shining like some holy grail in the sunlight streaming through the curtains on the window. It was pure white and absolutely beautiful.

I walked toward it, gently moving my fingers over the keys, not playing any notes, but wondering how many songs of sorrow or love or hope or despair have been played through these keys. How many definitions of a person were defined by them?

I looked over, seeing two violins near the opposite side of the room, elegant and poised in front of a classical sort of painting. The whole room was a different side of Zayn's life, and I put the two together as Zayn walked over to where I stood by the piano.

This was Zayn's light. What made him good. His grey was a mesh of the pure white of the piano and the darkness of his leather jacket. Two worlds combined in one person.

"My aunt taught me everything." He said, speaking as if he were reliving every single memory in this room. "I use to visit her all the time when I was little. My mum would be out running errands and I'd be here. In this very room absorbing countless hours of what should have been torture to a little kid." He said, smiling at the memory, and I smiled as well, finding joy in Zayn's cherished memories.

"But it never was. I was too fascinated by it all. Too intrigued in learning everything." He said, his eyes losing that distant look as he turned from the piano to look at me. "The first song I learned to play was some typical Mozart song. My aunt loves it, though." He said, going over to sit on the piano bench, motioning for me to do the same.

"What was the first song you wrote?" I asked, just curious. It couldn't have been about his mother, could it?

"I, um...." He trailed off, looking a bit afraid to answer that question. "The first song I wrote was after something happened that I wasn't too... it had no lyrics. The song. It was about a bird. A baby bird trying to fly with a wounded wing through a rainstorm. Except... it didn't know where home was." He confessed, and even his description of the song hurt me to the core.

"Can you play it for me?" I asked, and Zayn's hands immediately left the paino keys as he shook his head, a painfully sad smile on his face.

"I haven't played it in years. I don't want to think about it. It's too much. Too hard. I- I can't." He said, and now I understood the pain he felt when I refused to eat. It wasn't my own pain. I couldn't call it my own. It was like I couldn't be happy unless Zayn was. It was like I wanted his pain to be my own. I wanted it to hurt me instead of burdening him. But I couldn't relieve his pain through my own wishes.

"Please." I begged, trying to phrase my words like his. "One note at a time, yeah?" I said, making Zayn look at me with an expression that could only be defined as amazement. Amazed by what?

"Yeah." He agreed, placing his shaky hands down onto the piano keys, and I saw the physical struggle that was stored within him. It was the same exact struggle he somtimes had when touching me. The shaking that was like a restraint. As if he was trying to hold himself back because he knew something that I didn't. It was almost as if he was afraid of desire just as he was afraid of memory.

I gathered up my courage and grabbed onto his hand, squeezing it to show him I was here. He said he trusted me more than anyone else, so I wanted to show him he didn't make a mistake in that.

"It's okay. It's just me. You can trust me, Zayn." I assured. I watched as he visibly relaxed while giving an exhale. He set his hands back onto the piano keys, calmer now than before.

I let go of his hand and watched as he began playing. The music was soft, and I was fascinated by how easily his fingers glided over the keys, resembling the feathers of a bird ruffling in the wind. Delicate and caring.

The song began on the higher keys, and I closed my eyes, imaging a little bird on a tree branch, getting ready for flight. He flapped his wings and took off into a graceful flight. Then, the scene changed as the notes took a harsh, yet melodic turn. 

The bird was crashing down, struggling to keep aflight in a sudden gush of wind, but the attempts were futile as he crashed to the ground, hurt and broken. His wing was bent, wounded, and hurt. Hurt by mother nature.

The music became dark and solemn, and I only saw the wind blowing harshly, pushing the little bird back and removing his footing from the ground. He rolled back twice before pulling up to his feet, fluttering his wings and crying out in pain at the broken wing.

He still tried.

He pushed off of the ground, hitting the floor, tumbling into a tree, looking up at the dark grey sky and wondering where home was. If he would ever make it home. Then, the song got soft again, yet held so much pain. The storm was over, but the bird was stranded, alone, and lost. Hurt in other ways besides the physical.

I opened my eyes as the song was coming to an end, and I saw that Zayn had his eyes closed as well, feeling the music rather than focusing on the keys. It was a tragically magical sight.

The way his jaw was clenched tightly, the beautiful defined bone holding back his emotions. The way the sunlight filtering through the window perfectly silhouetted him. He wasn't just a great artist, he was a piece of art himself. Everything he did, I now noticed, was meticulously planned out. Everything had a reason behind it. And I knew that Zayn didn't pick on me because he hated me. Maybe he hated himself. Possibly.

The music came to an end and Zayn opened his eyes, which I noticed held so much. I didn't know it was possible for anyone to feel so many emotions at once. He took his hands off of the piano keys and looked down, not looking at me at all, which pained me for some reason.

"You're the bird, aren't you?" I questioned, but Zayn gave no answer. I knew he was. I didn't need an answer to know that.

"Zayn... that song wasn't about losing your mum." I pointed out, bringing my hand up to touch his arm. "It was about someone hurting you. Physically and mentally hurting you." I said, feeling afraid for him. "Who was it?"

He shook his head, turning his head away from me as he looked out of the window. He didn't want to look at me, but I wabted him to. I wanted him to show me his emotions.

"Zayn... please." I begged, and he looked at me with guarded eyes of anger.

"It's not important, so would you please stop asking?" He asked, getting up from the piano bench and walking around the piano, standing with his head in his hands, looking away from me.

I could tell he was feeling an ache from the past, and I didn't want to make it worse for him. He already shared such a big piece of himself with me through the song, but I couldn't let go of the curiosity eating away at me. I needed to know who hurt him. How they hurt him. Who was responsible for breaking Zayn Malik?

"Your aunt says you haven't been happy in a while." I murmured out, trying to carefully conduct this conversation.

Zayn gave out a dry laugh and shook his head. "That's not for her to determine, is it? That's not for anyone to determine but myself." He replied rather defensively, and I nodded before standing up from the bench as well and walking over to him.

"Then why are you so full of anger? Why are you so full of fear?" I questioned, watching as he turned away from me again, but I pressed on. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because I can't have you, goddamit!" He yelled, making me jump in surprise and stand there, not knowing what to do or say next. I felt like I was walking through a mine field and one wrong step would result in me blowing up.

I didn't have to do or say anything, though. Zayn took it into his own hands.

He walked close to me, resting his forehead against mine as I looked up at him, seeing want and fear and angst in his eyes. He sighed gently, closing his eyes before speaking.

"You have no idea how badly I want you, princess. How much I want to call you mine." He began, and I felt absolutely breathless at his confession. Still, I felt like I didn't need air as long as Zayn was here. I could be breathless for hours and still survive with him.

"But I've done so many things wrong. My biggest regret is hurting you." He said, opening his eyes again with a sad smile. "I'm broken." He announced, admitting it to himself and to me, and I could see it in his eyes. I could see the wrecked window, glass barely holding together, in his eyes. "I'm damaged goods. And you're absolute perfection." He breathed out, his lips getting closer to mine, and I was hypnotized by his presence.

I leaned forward, wanting so desperately to kiss him, but he pulled back a bit, smiling a small smile at me. He lifted his hands to my face, and I felt that same struggle and nervousness through his trembling fingers as he touched me, one hand resting on my neck, making me shiver as he gently touched over the burns below my neck-line. His other hand lifted up to cup my cheek, his thumb running over my cheekbone in, dare I say, a loving manner.

"I'm scared to touch you because I don't want to taint you. I'm scared to touch you because you make me feel things I've never felt. You make me want. So much." He whispered the last words, and then his lips were pressed to mine, making me melt into his touch.

I stepped closer to him, my hand grabbing onto his arm in an attempt to keep him close to me. And I decided to be brave, making the first move into taking the kiss one step further. I licked over Zayn's bottom lip, moaning as his mouth opened and his tongue delved into my mouth, licking and tasting any possible area.

I felt myself moving backward until my lower back came into contact with the piano, one of my arms resting on it to hold me up. I stretched my neck up as Zayn leaned down to keep our lips together. Being this close to him made my head spin, and I felt drunk off of his scent.

I let out a tiny moan as his lips left mine, trailing kisses down my jaw before working down to my neck, making my heart flutter whenever he pressed gentle, ghost-like kisses and then thud harshly whenever he pressed open-mouthed kisses, sucking on the skin but never hard enough to leave a mark, which I didn't know if I was satisfied with.

"You're so perfect, princess." He whispered, nuzzling his nose on the side of my neck in affection. I felt my pulse in my neck jump twice at the action, and I could tell Zayn felt it, too when he smiled before pressing a kiss to the spot.

We stood there for a while, leaning against the piano, my head resting in Zayn's shoulder as his rested in the crook of my neck, both savoring the moment. It was ours. Our time to feel. To forget. To embrace.

A time to simply be.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"You're really comfortable around your aunt." I pointed out. We were outside, and Zayn was showing me the garden. Or was showing me the garden. Now we were just sitting against a giant tree with a blanket over us to block out the cold. Zayn opened up his jacket and wrapped it around me along with his arm. It was warm, safe, and comfortable.

"Yeah. She just knows a lot about what I've bssn through. She's probably the only person I can fully trust besides you." He said. He said it a lot, but I didn't feel as if he truly trusted me. He couldn't even tell me the name of whoever hurt him. It made me feel a bit upset that I was willing to go along for the ride without knowing when the ride would truly end.

"You can't trust Louis?" I wondered as I picked at the material of the blanket. It was midday, and I knew I had to go home soon, but I was willing to buy out time with Zayn.

"I can. He's always been my best friend, but I just... he doesn't know. He doesn't know about what I've been through because I've kept him in the dark. Not sure if I regret that or not." He announced, speaking more to himself at the end.

"Why do it then?" I asked, sighing in comfort and settling further in to Zayn's hold, feeling him press a kiss to my head with a smile on his lips. I wanted to know what was going through his mind in moments like these.

"Fear." He simply stated. "That's the one thing that holds me back. It's the one thing that the human race have in common. We let fear drive us until we learn to overcome it. I haven't learned that yet."

"I don't think people can ever truly overcome fear." I said, giving my insight. Truthfully, I was still afraid of every little thing I felt for Zayn. I was afraid of the fact that he knew my secrets. I was afraid that I was slowly letting myself fall into his hands, giving him the power to break me even more. Every second I spent with him today was magical, but I also felt myself slipping through whatever barriers we previously had up. We were knocking down walls together, and I had a feeling it was too late to turn back.

"I think they just bottle it up and bury it away like a small secret. You bottle it up and bottle it up until you can't anymore. Then you let it sweep out through tears or screams." I said. It was all I knew. It was all I've been doing for years. Fear was just like frustration, anger, sadness. You hide it all away, and when you think it's gone, you explode with it.

"Well, I haven't cried in years." He confessed. "I never let myself."

I've never seen Zayn cry. His eyes got watery at the least, but then they seemed to dry just as quickly. He didn't really know how to feel. He didn't know how to deal with emotions.

"I wouldn't care if you did, you know?" I informed. "I wouldn't judge. I wouldn't laugh."

He pulled me closer to him with a sigh and a small smile. "I know. I know you wouldn't, princess." He pressed his lips to mine gently and tenderly, making me feel so cared for. "God, you're absolute perfection." He breathed out.

"Boys!" We heard Zayn's aunt call, and I saw her walking to us, smiling as she saw the way we were laid out. She seemed... proud? "What do you two want for lunch?" She asked, looking between us, and my stomach twisted at the thought of taking in any more food.

"I'm okay, actually. I'm still full from breakfast." I lied, watching as he looked confused and worried.

"Are you sure? You hardly ate half of your plate during breakfast. Is everything alright, dear? You can tell me if-" 

"Sandwiches will be okay." Zayn spoke up, taking her attention off of me, which I was thankful for. She looked over at Zayn, making eye contact with him for a while before nodding slowly.

"Okay. I'll get right to it." She said, turning and walking away after Zayn called out that he'll help.

He moved to get up, and I spoke up. "I- I have to go home." I excused. I figured returning to a home with one worried mum and an angry dad would be better than forcing my burdens on Zayn and his aunt any longer. I couldn't eat anymore.

"What? Why?" He asked, sitting up beside me as I looked away. I could hear the concern in his voice, but I just wanted to leave. I didn't want to hurt people again because my hand refuses to lift food to my mouth.

"Liam, you can do this. You don't have to eat the whole sandwich, but you need to eat." He explained softly. "You need to start eating because, whether you believe it or not, there are people who... who care about you more than anything. People who wish you took care of yourself. It's time to stop bottling up that fear, princess."

I closed my eyes for a second, thinking about his words. People who cared. Who? My mum had o clue, my dad would enjoy the thought, Louis was nice to me for Harry's benefit, and the only person who truly knew was Zayn. I knew he cared, but why was it so important? I already ate.

I opened my eyes, looking into his to see that same hurt from earlier hidden away in them. They were even more captivating that the brightest stars in the night sky- the stars that were fueled by a million burning gases in the atmosphere. The stars so many wanted to touch but couldn't reach. The stars that were so beautiful, yet envied the moon.

"Zayn?" I questioned, hearing him hum in response as he took my hand in his. And I asked what was always on my mind. "Is it better to feel pain or to feel nothing at all?"

He looked down at our intertwined hands, staying silent as he got lost in his thoughts, and I patiently awaited an answer, admiring the perfectly damaged human being in front of me. He held stories I couldn't tell but wanted so desperately to hear.

Finally, he looked up at me, looking at me in the eyes with contradicting emotions of pain and happiness. That happiness was so rare to find. I couldn't even find it in my own reflection, but I felt an ounce of it looking in his eyes.

"I don't know, honestly. But if it's anything like what this feels like, then it's so much better to feel pain."  
\------------------------------------------------------

I walked through my front door, the house being absolutely silent. There was no noise whatsoever, and it made me worried.

I went down the hall and to my room, pushing the door open and stopping as I saw my mum sitting at the foot of my bed, staring down at a picture in her hands. She turned as soon as the door opened.

"Liam! Oh my baby." She cried, standing up and pulling me into a tight hug. She began crying against my shoulder, and I instantly felt bad for leaving her in the dark all day long.

"I was so worried. I tried calling and texting, but you never replied." She explained.

"I didn't take my phone." I simply said, walking past her and going over to my closet to find new clothes, since I was currently wearing Zayn's, his jacket thankfully covering up the burns on my neck.

"Liam, your dad is really sorry for how he behaved last night." She said, and I wanted to scoff at that, but I didn't want to upset my mother, so I only froze and turned to look at her in near bewilderment. Did she actually believe he was sorry?

"He was drunk and stressed. That's what he said anyway." She sighed, and it was the first time I've seen my mum look tired. She didn't look young, happy, and carefree like she usually did. She looked worn down and fed up.

"What do you believe?" I asked, not trying to push a negative light onto anything, but I needed to know. Why did she seem so unhappy if she believed him?

"Sit down, Liam." She said, sitting on my bed and patting the seat beside her. I hesitantly walked over before sitting down a bit away from her, feeling as if she would know things if I sat any closer.

"I was so happy when I met your father." She began, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it. I sat quietly, listening as my mum continued.

"He was the best thing to ever happen to me. We went through a lot together, and when we found out I was pregnant, it was almost three months into our marriage, we were so happy." She confessed, and the thought of my father being happy because of me was odd.

"We found out you were going to be a boy, and your father kept saying he couldn't wait to teach you about sports and fishing and just hanging out together. He was close to his dad, and I knew he wanted the same for you." She looked down at the picture in her hand and held it up to me.

My mum was young, in her early twenties, and was standing in the front door with my dad's arm around her waist and a tiny baby in her arms. Me. We looked like a proper family. So happy. So complete.

I think I broke that.

"We took this the very first day we brought you home from the hospital." She explained, her hands shaking as she handed me the photo to look at, and I felt guilty all over again for her current tears. I didn't mean to turn out the way I did.

"Liam, you first told me you liked a boy when you were five, and I didn't listen because I assumed you were too young to know what that meant. But it didn't go away because you told both your dad and I how you felt at such a young age, and I won't lie, I was afraid for you." She expressed, squeezing my hand as I looked up from the picture.

"I didn't accept it, and I didn't want to believe it because I knew how cruel the world could be. I knew because my great uncle went through hell for being gay. But I loved him, and I love you. There's nothing wrong with it, but I was afraid someone would hurt you." She cried, and the words were hanging on the tip of my tongue -- a confession.

"I promises to protect you from that kind of hate, but... I think I failed." She cried, her voice breaking a bit. "Sweetheart, your dad may not accept you, but there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. And I want to know the truth." She said, looking at me with a newfound fear in her eyes.

"Has you father hurt you at all? I've never seen him that angry, Liam. I need to know now if you feel safe around him. I love him... God, I love him, but you're my son, and I will do all I can to protect you. Do you feel safe around your dad?" She questioned.

I looked her in the eyes, fighting away all of my emotions. I couldn't tell her. The broken look in her eyes right now was too much. She loved him. What did it feel like to lose someone you loved?

I nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact, and I swallowed before speaking, doing my best not to choke up and succeeding.

"Yes. He hasn't hurt me, mum. He's my dad." I lied, feeling sharp pains all over my body at the sinful lie. It was the worst lie I've ever had to tell.

She looked at me a while longer before nodding as well, accepting my answer as I held her gaze, unwavering to make my lie believable.

"Okay. Okay." She said, nodding and wiping her tears. "You come first, Liam. To me. You know that, right?"

I nodded again, feeling so much pain that it was physically hurting me. It hurt all the way through my core, and I felt my stomach twist due to the food I ate, but I managed to keep it down. "I know." I whispered.

"Where did you go last night?" She asked, bringing up a different topic, and I was thankful for the change, but I felt as if I couldn't trust her with this information. Why did I feel that way? I always use to trust my mum.

"I, uh, I went to Zayn's." I mumbled lowly, feeling as if I wasn't suppose to say that. It was an odd need to protect that fact, to keep to hidden, and I think it was because it was my safe place. I realized that now. When I was with Zayn, alone, I was comfortable... too comfortable, but I liked it a lot.

"Zayn's?" She reiterated. "Well, that boy truly is a saint. It kills me to know that he takes care of you more than I can."

"Don't say that, mum." I begged. I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to see Zayn as someone who kept all of my pieces together because I knew it would all disappear in the public eye. He held my hand infront of his aunt, but infront of the school was a different story. I couldn't depend on him to be my sanity when being with him was like slipping away from reality; we were almost insane together.

"It's true. He's given you a jacket, took you in at this time, you're wearing his clothes, he probably even fed you. He's looking out for you." She said with a smile, and I looked away, knowing where she was heading with this conversation.

"Do you like him, Liam? As more than friends?" She asked gently, and I felt panic flutter within me, thinking about the amazing day we spent together that I didn't want to end. He was so caring and affectionate, and I craved the attention and the soft caresses. But I didn't want to admit that to her. Because I knew nothing would amount from it.

"We're just friends." I stated, wondering if that word could even suffice. I didn't feel like Zayn's friend, but how was I suppose to jump from being bullied by him to liking him? It was confusing and unheard of, but I felt a true connection to Zayn that terrified me whenever I was away from him. Because I could think clearly when I was apart from him, free from the glazed over feeling of his attention.

"Alright." She said, holding her hands up before standing up from my bed. "I'm going to make dinner. Are you hungry?" She asked, and I thought about it for a second, feeling ashamed as I shook my head.

"I already ate." I said before she nodded, kissing my head and leaving from my room.

I laid back on my bed, thinking about everything and anything. Thinking about the constant pain I felt every single day, the pain that was only taken away by Zayn.

Zayn. I desperately wanted to know what he's been through, but I couldn't figure it out and he never offered much. It was always a dead end with him. But I didn't want to give up.

I sighed as I curled up in bed, pulling Zayn's jacket around me tightly and closing my eyes, playing the song Zayn played for me on the piano, and I felt the emotions behind it. The blunt and raw agony of it all.

It was a memory lodged deep within his heart that I wanted to set free.


	23. Discover

Monday mornings were difficult. It wasn't so much that it was the start of the week, it was only because I knew I'd have to see people again. I'd have to jump back into the harsh reality that who I was wasn't accepted. Who I was, was considered a sin.

I opened my bedroom door, doing my best to keep quiet as I walked down the hallway, nearly tiptoeing past my parent's bedroom. I finally made it past them and walked to the living room, so close to my escape until I heard a groan come from the couch.

I looked over in fear as I saw my dad sitting up, stretching out his arms from what seemed to be an uncomfortable night on the couch, but I found no sympathy. Not after all of the worse things he's done to me.

He looked up at me, glaring as he saw me. "What the hell are you looking at?" He growled out, standing up and making me back up in fear. He smirked at my reaction and stepped into my personal space. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You're so fucking lucky your mum has me on some kind of probation for yelling at you. If not, I wouldn't hesitate to see you bleed. You're not my fucking son. It's a shame I made you. Flesh and blood." He snarled, and it hurt. I thought of the whole story my mum told me yesterday and felt a new kind of low. My dad use to love me.

Now, he looked at me in pure hatred, glaring at the jacket I was wearing. I wouldn't even try to give any lame excuses. He knew it belonged to a guy, and I knew he was disgusted by it.

"Get the hell out of here and go to school." He demanded, and I walked passed him, just thankful that I wouldn't feel any physical pain this morning. I felt like my dad was falling completely off of the rails now, and there was no telling what he would do to hurt me next.

I left the house, closing the door behind me and letting out a deep breath before moving away from my house. I walked down the sidewalk, feeling the cold air slipping past the fingers of my opened hand. I liked the feeling. The feeling of the wind was so free. No restraints. It was unyielding.

I walked all the way to school, nothing on my mind but the fact that I was such a disappointment to my family. My mum couldn't be happy because of me. My dad didn't even accept me as his son. I didn't even know what I was doing anymore. What was I fighting for?

I walked to my locker, ignoring all of the laughter that filled the halls as people chatted with their friends. I felt like I was in the middle of the ocean, miles and miles of water around me, but I didn't know how to swim.

I jumped as I felt someone touch my shoulder, bringing me back to reality, and I turned to see Zayn there. He had a concerned look on his face, but I stayed silent, getting my books and all other necessities out for the day.

"Are you alright?" He asked, leaning against the lockers. I noticed him looking around, making sure others weren't watching, and that hurt me even more. It felt like everything was just turning to complete shit this morning. Because even Zayn was ashamed of me.

"No." I whispered, closing my locker. "Nothing's alright." I sighed, leaning my forehead against my locker as I saw Zayn reach out for me from the corner of my eye, but he pulled his hand back as soon as he realized his action.

"What happened? What did he do?" He asked, sounding a bit angry as he brought up my dad, but I just shook my head, turning to walk away, but Zayn followed, having the same class as me anyway.

"Liam, did he hurt you?" He questioned. I knew it was unreasonable of me to get angry at his worry, but I just wanted to be left alone. I didn't want to think about how I seemed to only cause some type of burden upon everybody's life.

"No." I simply replied, trying to walk a bit faster, but Zayn was a pretty fast walker as well, and it didn't help that his legs were a bit longer than mine.

"Why are you acting like this? What happened, Liam?" He asked. I didn't know what to say. Yes, my mum confessed that I basically ruined everything, but why did that hit me so hard? I already knew it. I already knew that my dad hit me because of who I was. I already knew my mum was a bit unsettled with the idea, but he tried her best to support me. I already knew it all. Hearing the words just hurt.

I heard the late bell ring, and I sighed. Could this day get any worse than it already was?

Zayn grabbed my arm and tried to pull me to stop walking. "Liam, what happe-"

"You know that when a mother penguin transfers her egg to the father, the switch has to be made fast before the egg freezes?" I questioned, thinking of anyway to relate how I felt. If Zayn compared himself to a bird, I could do just the same.

"Yeah?" He questioned, probably wondering why I was bringing up a random nature fact learned from a video we saw in fourth grade.

"That's me." I admitted, turning to look at him. "My mum trusted me with my dad. And I've been in the cold too long." I confessed, feeling so small and worthless.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face as Zayn said "That's why I got you a jacket."

I laughed a bit, feeling so many strong emotions. My heart soared at the words, but I nodded along. "Yeah. Yeah, you did."

"Liam, whatever happened this morning... whatever your dad may have told you... it's all wrong." He said, looking me in my eyes. "No matter how many times you hear that you're worthless... you're worth so much to me. And I know I'm not the best at proving that, but I- I just want you to know that. You're perfect to me, princess." He confessed, pecking my lips quickly before leading me to class.

I walked beside him, questioning everything. I loved the attention Zayn gave me, and I enjoyed the way he made me feel, but I couldn't ignore the doubt in my mind and the obvious need he has for hiding me away like a dirty secret. There was pain in misery, but there was so much more pain in pleasure.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"How did it go this weekend?" I asked Louis as soon as he sat beside me at lunch. I made sure to speak as low as possible so the other guys at the table wouldn't hear.

    He looked around the table before looking back at me with a wide smile. "Absolutely incredible. I took him to where we first met, relived that memory a little." He said with a laugh, and I felt happy for their love. "I told him I loved him, and he... he loves me, too." He confessed, a shy smile on his face that I never thought I'd see.

    "That's wonderful, Louis." I congratulated. I couldn't help but wish that I had someone who loved me that way. Zayn instantly came to mind, but I quickly shook the thought away. What we had was simple infatuation. Or maybe we both just needed someone there. Maybe we were only fooling ourselves.

    "I was thinking we could hang out after school tomorrow. He's off of work, and I figured it'd be cool for you two to meet." He said, and I kept it hidden that we already met. I wasn't sure if he'd like the thought of me talking to Harry about him.

     "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great." I said, looking over at Zayn and thinking of a lie to tell him. Maybe I should straight out say I was going to Louis' house.

    I saw him turn to look at me, our eyes locking for a few seconds before I looked away, looking down at my tray of food, finding none of it the slightest bit appealing. I knew he wanted me to eat, but it was hard to say that I was worth that. That I was worth being healthy.

     "Liam, what's that?" I heard Louis ask, and I turned to himhim, confused with the worried look in his eyes.

     "What?" I asked, and I froze in fear when he lifted his hand to my neck, pushing aside the collar that was barely hiding the burns. He looked at the burns in a bit of horror before looking at me with questioning eyes.

     "What happened to you? Who did this?" He asked, and I pushed his hand away, fixing my collar so that it was hiding the burns perfectly again. I looked away from him, feeling exposed to everyone.

    "Nobody. No one did it. It doesn't matter." I spat out, panic filling me, and I heard anger in his voice as he spoke again.

    "Bullshit. Was it Drew?" He offered, continuing when I only shook my head. "Someone did it, Liam. Who hurt you? Is someone hurting you?" He asked, and I grabbed my stuff as I stood up.

    "No one. Stop asking about it." I mumbled before walking away, leaving the table and exiting the lunch room. I heard Louis call my name, but I ignored it, not wanting him to pry for answers anymore. I couldn't believe he saw the burns.

    I ran to the closest restroom, about to shut the door and lock it when it was pushed open again, and I didn't know if I was relieved or upset that it was Zayn. Why did he always have to be around when I felt my worst?

    I moved away from him, dropping all of my stuff by the sinks as I leaned against it, breathing deeply to try and control the arising panic and fear inside of me. I heard Zayn shut and lock the door before walking toward me.

    "Liam, it's okay. It's alright." He attempted to comfort me, but I shook my head, leaning with my back against the wall as I gripped my hair in my hands, shaking my head.

    "No. No it's not. He kn-knows. He knows. He saw... he knows." I whimpered out. Nobody was suppose to see the marks and scars. Nobody. The more people who knew, the closer the secret was to coming out.

     "No he doesn't." Zayn said, walking to me and lifting my chin up so I was looking at him. I did my best to hold my tears back as I stared into his eyes. "He thinks I did it." He confessed, and I looked at him in confusion.

    "Why would he think that? You haven't even hit me in weeks." I said.

     "Why not? I despised you. I made it my mission to hurt you and make your life a living hell. I claimed you as my own to torture. I was fucked up. If not Drew, then who else?" He pointed out with a sad smile, his fingers brushing against my cheek softly.

    "I never wanted anyone else to see." I whispered, and Zayn nodded in understanding. I didn't even enjoy him knowing about the countless bruises and abuse I went through.

     "I know. But he doesn't know, and he won't know. Just go with what he thinks. We'll say I did it. He'll believe it." He suggested, but it felt wrong. It felt wrong to lie about Zayn hurting me when all he's done was help me heal. He made me feel like I mattered. He was offering to blame himself, and I didn't know what to do about it.

    "I- I can't. I can't just lie about you-"

    "So you're going to tell him the truth?" He interrupted, and I shook my head. "Louis doesn't stop questioning until he gets an answer. And as much as I wish you'd tell someone, you don't have to tell him this if you're not ready."

    "O-okay." I said, feeling so guilty for agreeing to lie, but what else could I do? I wasn't even that close to Louis. We spoke, but 90 percent of it was about Harry. If anything, I knew Harry better than I knew Louis.

    "Okay." He said, resting his forehead against mine. "Ready to go back?" He questioned, and I shook my head, not wanting to face Louis. Who knows what he'll do. Who knows how the others at the table will react to what just happened.

    What if they told everyone about the burns?

    I gripped onto Zayn's arms as I asked "Can we just leave? Can we... can we go to your house?" It was my first time begging Zayn for this. The first time I outright asked to leave. It was my first time making it completely obvious to him that I didn't feel safe where I should. I didn't feel safe at school, on the streets, or in my own home. I felt safe in his home, in his room, in his arms. It was terribly terrifying to admit.

    "Yeah. Of course we can, princess." He said after a moment of looking at my face, observing me as he always seemed to do. He could read my expressions, study my actions, and come to discover all that I felt without me ever having to explain it. I wished to do the same.

    "C'mon." He said, pressing a kiss to my forehead before grabbing my things where I dropped them and picking them up, carrying them for me as we left the restroom, sneaking past the cafeteria and out of the school doors.

    I felt Zayn grab my hand as we walked further down the street, and I looked at him, admiring the human being walking beside me. He hid behind facades and fear. He had a past that nobody knew about. He was misunderstood and lost in a memory only he knew. And I realized one thing.

     Maybe I wasn't the only one left out in the cold.  
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    "How long did it take you to learn?" I asked, listening to Zayn play the piano in only the way he could. It seemed effortless, as if he never even needed to learn.

     "Not long at all, really. My aunt believed I was a natural. I'm not so sure about that." He said with a shrug, continuing to play whatever song he was playing. I didn't recognize it, but it made all of my panic and anxiety calm down. It felt as if the music was a remedy seeping through my skin and fixing the inside; where the true damage was.

     "I can believe that." I said honestly. He just had a naturally dangerous way of playing. He seemed so vulnerable as he played, letting the music control his emotions. He seemed to flow with it, closing his eyes and imagining whatever inspired the song. It was such a magical thing to see.

     He stopped playing, looking over at me with a raised eyebrow. I only stared back, still not being able go believe how beautiful he was. It was a shame that he didn't have everything he ever wanted. It was a shame that someone could hurt him.

     "It's not hard once you get use to it." He explained, looking back at the keys. I knew he was talking about playing the piano, but I couldn't help but feel he was referring to something else entirely.

      "Can you teach me?" I questioned, a part of me wanting this just for fun, the other wanting it as a way to be closer to Zayn. Was closer the right option?

       He looked at me in shock before clearing his throat and shrugging. "I can try... I'm not... not really a great teacher." He divulged.

      Still, he stood up, walking around me and placing his arms on either side of my body, grabbing my hands in his, as I did my best to ignore the shiver that ran up my back to an ultimate fail as I felt Zayn smile at the motion. He set my hands down on the keys gently, and I was nervous for some reason.

     "You're going to always set your hands down this way. Gently. If you get nervous you won't focus on the music." He informed, so I did my best to take a deep breath and calm myself down.

    "Now, the white keys go from A to G. Those are the notes." He said, pointing at the long row of white before he moved on to the smaller black keys. "These are mainly your sharps and flats. Basically the white keys are half-step intervals." He tried explaining, but I was so confused, and I think he could tell.

    "It's alright. None of this makes sense the first time. Just... Do what I do." He said, sitting down beside me and playing four notes that were high tones, breaking out a lovely melody.

    I watched his hands and then let him settle my own on the four right notes before motioning for me to play. I pressed down gently, smiling as a lovely sound came out, the same sound in a lower octave, and I realized that the notes were the very beginning of the bird song. The song that told so much about Zayn.

    "See? Not so hard, yeah?" He asked, looking at me with a small smile, but all I could think about was the raw emotional pain that rang out of him as he played the song for me. All I could think about was someone hurting him. I didn't mean to interrupt this moment, but I couldn't hold back my thoughts.

     "If it wasn't your mum... it was your dad." I whispered out the conclusion I came to earlier, and Zayn's face immediately changed to hurt before he just looked plain angry at my words.

     "I wish you'd stop talking about that." He said as he turned to face the piano again, looking at the keys with eyes that held a mixed amount of pain and hatred. I knew I was right. It was so obvious, but I never wanted to believe that he could be just like me.

    "I can't, Zayn. Call me crazy, but I care about you. Okay? And I need to know. Why can't you just tell me?" I asked, and I jumped when he slammed on the piano keys, a loud noise erupting from it and reverberating throughout the room.

     "Tell you what?" He asked, standing up from the piano and walking away a bit before turning toward me in frustration. "That my life isn't fucking rainbows and sunshine? That my mum passed away never knowing about my pain? That there's a reason to why I chose to push you around all those years? That my life is fucked up? Well, I'm sorry, but if you want a damn sob story go get it from someone else!" He yelled, but I saw beyond the angry facade. He was broken. Hurt. Corrupted. It was heartbreaking to see.

     "Zayn... you need to tell someone. You need some kind of outlet." I tried to explain, but he shook his head.

     "I don't need anything except for you to stop prying into my life." He snarked, and it hurt. It was like he healed a wound only to tear it right back open with the words spat from his clenched teeth.

     "Fine." I said, not liking this feeling of rejection. I was wreckless enough to get close to him, to rely on him, to think of him as a safe haven, and that was all beng ripped away. I never had anything to call mine, and I never knew losing it all would hurt so much. 

     "Sorry for caring." I mumbled, standing up from the piano and walking to the door. I froze when I felt Zayn's hand on my arm, and I turned to him, a look of sorrow in his eyes.

     "I'm sorry." He apologized, but I felt so hurt.

     "I know you are." I whispered out before pulling away, leaving from his house and not knowing where to go. I didn't want to go home, but I had nowhere else to go.

    Where do you go when your safe haven was stolen away? Where do you go when you have no place safe?  
\------------------------------------------------------

     I finally got home. It was late, and I was freezing from walking in the cold for hours. I was aimlessly walking. I didn't have a destination, and I felt alone and cold. Cold. Like always.

    I pulled the jacket around my shoulders as I walked through the hallway. It was the only warmth I had, but I strangely liked it. I loved the way it smelled like Zayn. It was a bittersweet sort of feeling.

     I walked to my room, glad that my parents were both inside of theirs. I was lucky my dad wasn't sleeping on the couch again tonight. I closed my bedroom door behind me, locking it to keep everyone and anyone out.

    I went to my bed, sitting down and taking off my shoes before I heard a tap on my window. I turned to see it opening, Zayn climbing up to get through it. He seemed a bit uncoordinated, and I stood up in worry as he stumbled into the room.

    "Zayn, what are you doing here?" I sighed, getting off of the bed and walking toward him. He stood up, walking to me on shaky legs before pulling me into an unexpected kiss.

    I froze. I tasted the alcohol on his breath, and I could sense his fear through his trembling hands as he held on to my face, but I pushed him away with a sorry heart.

    "Zayn, you're drunk." I whispered, pointing out the obvious. I could see the pain in his eyes, raw pain that he probably never planned on exposing. It was terrible to see. It was made worse by me pushing him away.

    "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for yelling. I hurt you. All I do is hurt you. I'm sorry, princess." He said, and I was shocked as I saw a tear drip down his cheek. What was he reliving? What memory haunted him every day? What was torturing him from the inside out?

    "It's okay." I comforted, feeling clueless as to how to help him. I hesitantly pulled him close to me, hugging him tightly, and I heard a sob escape his lips, making my heart clench in agony for him. I've never seen him cry. I've never heard him cry. It was difficult to deal with.

    "C'mon. Let's just lay down, yeah?" I offered, pulling him by his hand to my bed and laying down on my back. Zayn shuffled in beside me, and I didn't even care about his shoes on my bed as he laid his head on my chest. I wanted to know why he was crying, but I didn't want to ask. I didn't want to make this worse for him. Whatever he was going through.

    "He hurt me." Zayn whimpered out, and I knew he was referring to his dad. I've never seen this weakness in Zayn, but it scared me to death. "Why... why would he hurt me?" He asked, crying gently.

    "I don't know." I confessed. I didn't even know how he was hurt. I didn't know the story behind it, but I wanted to. I couldn't ask him now, though. "I don't know, but he was wrong. About whatever he said or did."

    "No, he wasn't." Zayn whispered in a numb sort of state. "He was right. About everything."

     We laid in silence for a while until I felt Zayn press a small kiss to my neck before running his fingers over my burns. "Liam?" He said, and I hummed in response, looking down at him.

    "I've been hurt." He confessed. "But you make it better, princess. You make it better."


	24. School

"Fuck." I heard Zayn groan from the bed as I shrugged on a shirt. I knew he was probably hungover, and there wasn't much I could do but offer him pain killers, water, and to just stay in bed.

    "Here." I said, grabbing the glass of water and pills I prepared from my bedside table and handing them to him. He looked up at me, probably remembering everything that happened last night. I didn't know how he would react to it, if he would be angry or deny it all or if he'd just leave. I didn't want any of that.

    "Thank you." He whispered, sitting up and taking the items from my hands, never onve daring to look me in the eyes. I could tell this was new for him. I don't think he's ever had a moment when he was the weaker one. He probably felt awkward or embarrassed, but there was no need to feel that way.

    "Better?" I asked after seeing him take the pills, and he nodded while setting the glass back down on the table. We didn't speak, and I didn't want to push. I didn't want to feel as if I always had to pry truth out of him.

    I sighed at the silence before sitting on the edge of my bed and putting my shoes on. I felt as shift toward me, and I looked up as he asked, "Where are you going?"

    "We still have school today. Well, I do." I said, standing up and walking around the bed, clearing my throat as I grabbed the jacket I stored under the pillows. It was pretty embarrassing for him to know that I kept it there. It made me feel better knowing I had some part of him with me, though I wish I wasn't getting so attached.

    He looked at the jacket in my hand before looking up at me with intense eyes, something more than infatuation shining through them. "You can just... you can stay here. If you want. And just sleep." I offered after taking a deep breath in, feeling pressured under his gaze.

    I watched as he crawled to the side of the bed I was on before getting onto his knees and pulling my head down, looking me deeply in the eyes. I wanted to look away, but the many emotions that swirled around in his golden browns filled my mind with so many more questions. I wanted to discover everything.

    "You could stay, too." He said, pressing a peck to my lips, one that was so soft it was almost as if it never happened, which was a thought that made my heart pound in fear and my hand grab onto his arm to make sure he was real.

     "I can't." I said, knowing that it'd be a big mistake to skip another day. "My dad would-"

    "He's not going to touch you." Zayn gritted out, his hands reaching up to cup my cheeks as he looked me in the eyes, as if he was making a promise. I hated knowing he couldn't promise that.

     "You can't protect me from him, Zayn. You can't protect me from him if I stay." I sighed out, feeling hurt from how hard and repetitive this was.

      "I can't protect you from Drew if you go." He pointed out, and I should have remembered that fact. Of course he'd want to make sure I wasn't anywhere near Drew. The thought of going in alone was a bit scary, but I was use to facing things alone. I've done it my whole life.

    "Louis'll be there." I said, but I wasn't certain of that fact. Sure, we talked at lunch, but would he really risk getting in a fight just to help me out? I mean, he had people who worried about his well-being as well.

      "No, I need to be there." He said, getting out of bed and holding his head from the ache he probably felt. I've never experienced a hangover, but it couldn't possibly feel nice.

    "Well, you're not going anywhere." I said, sitting him back down. "Zayn, you drank last night. You probably feel terrible, and I'm not going to risk your health because of me. I'll be okay. Louis will be there." I repeated, saying it with a more definite tone.

     "He better fucking be there." He muttered, looking up at me again. I swallowed thickly as he reached for me, pulling me down onto his lap. He cupped my cheek again, his thumb gently running along my cheekbone as he said "Just promise to stay by Louis, yeah?"

    I nodded, feeling completely entranced by all of the emotion I heard in his voice. It was raw and desperate, like he needed it more than anything. "I promise." I said.

     "Okay." He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. "Okay. Just be careful, princess." He breathed out, pressing another soft peck to my lips, making me afraid to pull away.

     "I will." I said it like a promise, but I didn't know if I could keep it.  
\------------------------------------------------------

     "No Zayn today?" I heard that same voice that made me freeze. My locker was slammed shut in front of my face, and I jumped back to not get hit by it, the side of the locker barely missing my face. "Little lover boy not feeling well?" He teased.

     "He's not my lover." I mumbled out, taking a deep breath and looking up at Drew. "And none of it is your business. Just leave me alone." I said, but he only laughed in my face.

    "You seriously think you can just tell me to back off and I will?" He questioned rhetorically, and he pushed me against the locker. "I can't wait to bash your fucking face in." He smirked, and it happened so fast. Pain flooded through me as I felt his fist collide with my stomach, making my curl forward, but he held me back up by my shoulder, throwing another punch to my chest and making me breathless. I heard the calls of excitement around me, and I knew a crowd was forming. They probably missed this humiliation.

     "Don't know why anyone would protect such a stupid little bitch." He spat out, throwing a punch to my face, and I worked up the courage to push him. The unexpected shove made him stumble back a bit, and he looked at me in anger before rushing back to me, but before he could even hit me, he was being pulled back again.

    I looked to see Louis, pushing Drew away from me with complete rage. "What the hell is going on?" He asked, looking at Drew directly.

     "You think you're so fucking tough hitting someone who won't even fight back? You're not tough, you're a coward!" He spat. "If you want a fight, I'm right here. And I won't hesitate to hit back." He threatened, standing in front of me as I did my best to catch my breath from the blow I received.

     "Why are you even defending him? Zayn's not here. You don't have to be his little dummy anymore. You don't have to protect the fag." He chuckled, and I saw Louis flinch at the word. Drew noticed as well, raising his eyebrow in amusement.

     "Unless you're one as well?" He assumed, stepping closer to Louis, and I watched as Louis's hands balled up in fists. "Oh my God." Drew laughed out before looking at the crowd.

     "Louis Tomlinson's a dirty fag!" He called out, and people looked at Louis with questioning eyes, probably wondering if it was true. Why did it matter so much who people loved? Why?

     I saw Louis take a deep breath and close his eyes, his fists unballing as he spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. "So what if I am?" He began, and I was shocked. "So what if I love a boy with green eyes and wild, curly hair? So what if he makes me happy? I don't care anymore. I'm tired of hiding. I'm gay," He declared, a collective gasp filling everyone, including me. "What are you going to do about it because I can still kick your ass." He smirked, and Drew swallowed thickly, clenching his jaw before turning and storming off.

     Louis turned to me, letting out a deep breath as he said "I can't believe I just did that." He smiled at me before looking concerned. "Are you okay?" He asked, checking up on me as people began to disperse, all of the action coming to an end along with their enjoyment. I saw many of them give distasteful looks toward Louis, but I didn't say anything about it.

     "I'm fine." I mumbled. Ultimately I was. The most I would get is a couple of bruises. Nothing too bad. It was the typical aftermath. "I can't believe you just did that either." I confessed. "Why did you?"

    "Honestly, I think I did it for me." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, and I knew this would be an uncomfortable conversation for him. He's never truly spoken about himself.

    "Maybe I did it for Harry. I don't know." He sighed, a small smile forming on his lips. "It feels amazing, though. To not have to carry around such a big secret." He said, standing up straight and seeming proud of himself, which he should be.

    I was proud of him as well, but my mind couldn't help but create parallels to him and Zayn.

    They both harboured that secret. Zayn may not have outright accepted his sexuality, but he wasn't straight. He was so manipulated into believening something different that it was impossible for him to act out of what feels right. He was stuck in a pit of despair and fear that caused clouds of hatred and anger to roll over clear blue skies. Louis didn't seem to have this problem. Still, I couldn't help but wish that Zayn would be brave enough to do the same thing Louis just did.

    "What about Zayn?" I asked, looking up at him. The question had two different meanings. I needed to know if Zayn would ever be fixed, would ever work up enough courage to come out of hiding or if I would be stuck in a tornado of shame, pain, and longing for what I could have. Would I be trapped back into a closet I didn't want to be in?

    To Louis, the question referred to Zayn's homophobic ways.

   I saw his eyes on my neck, my clothing covering the burns that were hidden beneath the fabric, but I knew that's all he thought about. He thought Zayn did it, and I was suppose to go along with that assumption, even if it was wrong.

    "I guess... I guess I'll find out if my best friend all these years is truly my best friend." He said hesitantly, seeming terrified at the thought of Zayn finding out, and it was a reasonable fear from his point of view.

     "Like you said, you know the real Zayn. Would he really hate you for being different?" I asked, and Louis let the question linger before sighing and shaking his head.

     "I don't know." He confessed. "I thought I knew the real Zayn, but he seems so secretive nowadays. Like something's bothering him more than ever. We haven't spoke in weeks, but I can see it in his eyes. He seems so distant, and I have no idea why. How can you be so close to someone you barely even know?" 

    I asked myself that question as well. I barely knew Zayn. I knew his mum passed away, he lived with his aunt, he's the same age as I am, he constantly tries to keep me warm (physically and affectionately), he pries into all of my darkest secrets, he's watched me way longer than I've ever noticed, he's not the typical homophobic asshole of the school, his father hurt him somehow, and that he was broken inside. I knew all of that, but I didn't know him. There were still huge gaps in his story, huge empty spaces he seemed to want to forget. But something told me I knew him better than Louis did.

     The warning bell to get to class rang, and I looked at Louis again, snapping out of my thought to see him looking at me curiously, probably wondering why I zoned out. It just felt like I was trying to solve a puzzle but I was missing the most important pieces.

     "See you at lunch." I offered, expecting him to agree and then walk away so we could get on with our days, but he spoke uo instead.

     "About lunch. Since Zayn doesn't seem to be here, want to go out to eat with me and Harry?" He asked. I debated the offer, not really wanting to be a third wheel. "It's probably the only time we could hang out. Have to cancel the after school at my house. My parents are having a dinner that I completely forgot about." He said, and I completely forgot we were suppose to go to his house after school.

     "Yeah. It'll be fun." I said, trying to be optimistic. Harry seemed nice, but being ignored was something I didn't want to go back to. If they had each other to talk to, I'd surely be alone? I was afraid of alone.  
\------------------------------------------------------

     I stared at the plate of food in front of me, a panic slowly building up inside of me. I couldn't eat it. I couldn't. No matter how many times I lifted mh fork to my mouth, I always recoiled away again at the last minute. I was trying so hard, and I felt ashamed and frustrated. I wasn't worth this food, but Louis was paying for it all.

     "If you don't like it, we can trade." I heard a voice say. I looked across from me, seeing Harry's friend looking at me with a small smile. His name was Niall, and he seemed nice enough. It was the first time he spoke since we all arrived. Harry and Louis were so invested in each other, so I guess it made sense for him to want to start up a conversation as well.

     "I'm fine." I mumbled out, setting my fork down and sighing before taking a drink of my water. It didn't matter what was on my plate, it was just the fact that I couldn't eat. I wouldn't allow myself to eat.

     The thought of Zayn came to me, and I felt like a disappointment. He wanted me to eat, but I was afraid to. I was afraid to feel like I was worth it. I was afraid to gain any more weight and ruin my appearance even more. I was afraid that I'd only throw it all up again, whether it be willingly or because of how nauseous all of my dad's abuse left me.

     "Are you sure? I honestly don't mind trading." He said, and it was nice that he was doing his best to be helpful when we barely met, but he didn't know my secrets. Only Zayn did.

     "I'm okay. I just ate a big breakfast this morning." I said, offering a smile to make the lie more believable. "I didn't know Louis was going to invite me here."

    "I didn't know Harry was bringing me along either. We usually eat out all the time during lunch, a lot of kids do at our school." He announced, and I realized that there were only two high schools around this area. Our school and our rival school.

    "Hey, do you guys go to Westbrook?" I questioned, quickly changing the topic from eating and food. Anything to shift the attention away from what was truly going on with me.

    "Westbrook? Of course not." He laughed, motioning between himself and Harry. "We go to Rosewood." He confessed, and I was shocked.

    "Rosewood?" I asked again, just to make sure I heard right. Niall nodded, letting out a small chuckle at how priceless my reaction must have been. "Rosewood. As in... Rosewood: the School of Arts. The best music and drama school there is. The private school that offers college courses and is insanely difficult to get into?" I asked, probably sounding like a complete fan.

    Niall laughed again and nodded. "I guess you're familiar with it." He said, and I nodded.

    "Definitely. Everyone there is suppose to be insanely talented." I said, seeing Louis and Harry join into our conversation suddenly.

     "They're definitely talented." Louis said, and Harry smiled up at him from where his head rested on his shoulder.

     "You're just terribly biased." He teased, and I looked away from them as they kissed, not being able to deny the ache and longing for something similar.

     "Oh, we're having our opening show case next week. Maybe you both could go." Niall suggested, looking between Louis and I. I looked over at Louis, seeing him nod agreement. Of course he would go.

    "I don't know...." I trailed off. There were so many factors to take in. Telling my mum, having my dad find out I was actually going out, that I was making friends; he'd surely ruin that. Zayn. I was so use to spending nights with him.

    "C'mon, Liam. In all of our years of high school, I've never once seen you at a game, or joining a club, or talk in class, or even go to a party." Louis said, and I looked down at the plate of food again, feeling so tortured. It's not that I never wanted to try things, people just weren't accepting. I never went to games because the jocks hated me the most, I would never get accepted into a club with half of the school despising me (not that I was a people person any way), I had nothing to say in class; I was a watcher just like Zayn, and the last time I was invited to a party was in third grade when Kelsey Shaw and Gwen O'brien wanted to do my make-up because they assumed I was into that stuff. My social life wasn't something I was proud.

    "It'll be fine." Louis said, moving away from Harry to rest a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We won't see anyone from our school." He pushed, eyeing my cheek where a bruise was already formed from this morning.

     I thought about, seeing all of them giving me encouraging smiles. I took a deep breath and nodded, knowing that I truly did want to go to this.

    "When is it, exactly?" I asked, hearing Niall go into details about the day in time, but all I thought about was what my dad would say. He'd probably say there was no need for me to go because I was a talentless waste of space anyway. My mum would support it but remain blind to his temperment.

    Another part of me couldn't help but wish Zayn would go with me, that'd be fearless and join along. That couldn't happen. It was unlikely, but I wanted it so much. I felt safe with him, and I would need it in such an intimidating environment. Because music was one of my dreams.

    A dream that nobody knew about.


	25. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of alcoholism and self-harm. If you are suffering through any of this, or anything in this book, or know someone who is, don't sit in silence. Speak up. It may be scary, but someone out there will listen and care. I know I would <3
> 
> Please read safely, loves. -------

I walked into my house, still rethinking the events of today as I locked the front door behind me and made my way down the hallway. I stopped outside of my room, taking a deep breath and hoping Zayn was asleep or something so he wouldn't see the prominent bruise on my cheek. I knew I would have no such luck.

I opened the door and stood in the doorway, seeing a stack of books on the bedside table, one in Zayn's hand as he flipped through the pages, and I set my backpack down. "You know, you read an awful lot." He spoke up, knowing it was me at the door. He turned the page and continued reading. "Most of these have common themes. Love, loss, hardships. This one's my favorite." He said, holding up the book with a cover of the night sky. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.

"They're a weird match, but they work. Complete opposites. I'd see you as Dante, and I wish you could have been as happy as he was." He said, and I thought about the book. How Dante knows he likes Ari, even if Ari doesn't know he likes Dante back. I thought of how Dante got beat up for being gay, similar to my real life. But if I was Dante, Zayn would have to be my Ari. The fact that he denied his feelings, kept them closed up, hurt me in ways he didn't mean to. It fit too well.

"I'm glad they made it in the end." He said, closing the book and looking up at me, immediately setting the book down and standing up, walking over to me swiftly. He grabbed onto my face, and I saw a swirl of rage and concern in his eyes.

"What did that son of a bitch do?" He growled, glaring at the purplish bruise on my cheekbone. He padded at it gently, and I flinched a bit in pain.

"Nothing. I'm fine." I said, moving his hand away and attenpting to change the subject. "Have you been reading my books all day?" I questioned, but I never got a reply.

"I never should have stayed. I should have went to school with you." Zayn said, speaking to himself, and I didn't like the fact that he was blaming himself for the decision I made. "When I see that asshole, I'm gonna-"

"He only hit me a few times. Louis stepped in and stopped him." I said with a sigh, not wanting to talk about my bullying problems at the moment. "It's fine."

"It isn't. I promised myself that I would protect you. I didn't protect you, princess." He said, grabbing onto my face again and resting his forehead against mine. "It's my job to protect you." He whispered.

I looked into his eyes, seeing him stare back before looking down at my lips, and I smiled sadly as I shook my head. "No it isn't. It's not your job." I began, fearing how Zayn would react to what I was going to say next. "We're not dating, Zayn." I let out, feeling his hold on me tighten a bit as he looked me right in the eyes.

"We're not together. Hell, I don't even know if we're friends." I said, pulling back from his hold a bit, and he gripped onto my arm, keeping me close. "It's all a big, confusing mind game, and I have no idea why I stick around if I'm honest." I confessed, seeing immediate fear in Zayn's eyes.

"No. No, no. You promised not to leave me." He reminded, and I remembered that. The thing was, I didn't think I could leave Zayn. Not when I felt so close to him already. "You promised you wouldn't leave me, princess. I- I can't lose you."

"You won't." I said, knowing how vulnerable he was right now. I sighed again, seeming to be doing that a lot lately, and rested my forehead against his this time. "It just all hurts. So much."

"It hurts me, too." He promised, and I watched as his jaw clenched in emotions. "It hurts, but I love the pain." He divulged, and my heart fluttered at the four letter word, even if it wasn't said in the way I think I wanted to hear it.

"I do, too." I said, swallowing thickly after the confession. "I've always tried to be numb, you know? Block out the pain. But... you make me want to feel, and I... I can't give it up. Eventhough my heart fucking hurts at the thought of you, and I have no idea what it is. I have no idea what this kind of pain is." I said.

It was silent, the sound of our quiet breathing being all that filled the room. I shut my eyes as Zayn lifted his hand to my cheek, lightly caressing it as his lips got closer. "Remember when we played twenty-one questions, and I asked you if you've ever been in love?" He whispered, and I nodded.

I felt Zayn's hands shaking against my skin as he let out a breath. "Have you?" He asked, and I felt my throat tighten at the question.

"I don't know." I said, speaking so softly I almost didn't hear myself. "What does love feel like?" I questioned, because I honestly had no clue. But I didn't get a reply.

Zayn pressed his lips to mine in a gentle peck, just like the ghost-like ones he gave me this morning. A peck that didn't feel real. One were only fear and want lingered, and I couldn't take the torture, the feeling that it wasn't real.

I pulled Zayn close as he began pulling away, and kissed him again, a peck that was much more firm than the last. And something buzzed within me, a sort of addicting feeling taking hold, and I kissed him again, satisfying smacks of our lips filling the air as I felt Zayn smile, and I couldn't help but smile as well, though I didn't know why. I didn't understand the sudden happiness that overtook me.

I felt Zayn wrap one arm around my waist as his other hand was on my cheek, keeping me close to him. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and I felt warm all over. It was an intoxicating feeling, and I wondered if this swimming in my head was how it felt to be drunk.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you again. Nobody will hurt you, princess." He breathed out before kissing me deeply. I jumped as I felt my back hit the wall, not even registering that we were moving backwards.

"You can't protect me from everyone." I said, breaking apart to look into his eyes, only speaking truth. I would always get hurt by someone somehow. It was a natural part of life that sucked but had to be dealt with.

I looked down at his lips again as he replied. "I can sure as hell try." He leaned back in, our lips pressing together in a heavenly mesh, and I've never felt this drawn to someone before. I remembered how vulnerable Zayn was last night, and I wondered if his need to be big and bad was a result of how his father must have controlled him.

"Zayn... what-" I cut myself off with a gasp as I felt Zayn trail kisses down my neck, smiling against my skin at the sound. It made my heart skip a beat, and I gripped onto his hair tightly as he sucked a bruise onto the sensitive skin behind my ear. I trembled in his arms, and the room was slowly beginning to feel too hot as my skin heated up.

I let out a surprising moan before Zayn kissed over the fresh mark and made his way back to my lips, kissing me again. He felt so close but not close enough, and I couldn't define this head-spinning feeling.

"Zayn, wait." I said, pushing him away a bit, and he looked me in the eyes. His brown orbs were full of emotion. A mix between adoration, pain, and want... no, need.

He looked me in the eyes, both of us panting to catch our breaths from the heavy make-out session. I couldn't believe I let myself get so lost in the moment. It was such an unsafe thing to do, and I immediately looked away from Zayn, breaking our eye contact and looking down to where Zayn's hand was resting on my waist.

"Why were you drunk... last night?" I asked, remembering how he showed up to my door full of apologies last night. He seemed hurt, and I didn't know how to help him, so I just held him. But what caused him to drink?

"Because I needed to drink." He confessed, and I didn't like the vague answer, but I knew there was no way to force out the real one.

"Do you need that a lot?" I questioned, remembering the first time he stumbled through my window after drinking with Louis. It was only a while ago.

"Only when it hurts too much. Inside." He whispered, and I looked back up at him, seeing that he was looking down to the floor. I lifted his chin up, meeting his eyes with mine, and I pulled him close, kissing his lips again. It lasted a few seconds before I pulled away again, Zayn attempting to chase my lips and making me smile a bit as I rested our foreheads together.

"How long have you been doing this? Drinking to rid the pain?" I aaked. It was a dangerous thing for him to do, and I didn't like the idea of Zayn sad, drunk, and alone. Nobody deserved that. Especially when none of the pain was their fault.

"About 5 years." He mumbled out. Before high school even started. Middle school. That's when he started. "It wasn't this bad until about a year and a half ago."

"It's not good for you." I let out. It was a pathetic statement, but it was all I had. "Zayn, alcohol isn't good for you."

"I know that." He said, and I heard a strain in his voice. "I know that a lot of things aren't good for me, or I'm not good for them. That's what makes me want it so much more." He explained, looking me in the eyes with a pointed look.

"You have to resist it." I pushed, cautiously testing my limits. I wanted to influence him for the better. "What did you do before drinking?" I asked, hoping I could find another way to stop this. Maybe music could be his distraction.

"Nothing." He muttered, moving to pull away from me, but I pulled him close again. I needed him close. It seemed to break down his walls and show his vulnerability. Keeping him close was the only way I could find out whatever he was hiding because he clearly did something before.

"Zayn." I said as I pulled him back to me, and I saw that he was doing his best to avoid eye contact. "Zayn, please." I whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I hurt myself." He whispered back, and I felt my heart drop.

I closed my eyes at the information, not wanting to believe what I just heard was real. But it was. And I felt the tears building behind my closed eyelids as I choked out, "How?"

"Any way I could." He confessed. "Cutting, burning, tugging at my hair until my scalp bled, bruising, so many different types of self-inflicting wounds." He said, breathing heavily as he let it all out, and I knew he was doing his best not to cry, but I couldn't hold back my tears.

"Don't cry." He whispered out sweetly, but it only made the pain worse. I knew that Zayn wasn't the terrible monster I use to see him as. He was only afraid. Afraid of this past that haunted him so heavily. "Please don't cry, princess." He begged, kissing my forehead gently, and I let out a breathless cries for him, feeling a deep sting in my heart.

"Please don't cry. It hurts to see you cry. It hurts too much." He spoke gently, and his arms wrapped around me to calm me down. I was suppose to be helping him through this. I should be holding him, but this just felt so right.

"Remember when you said that seeing me upset and broken made you feel pain?" I questioned, knowing he would remember. Zayn remembered everything.

He nodded, looking me in the eyes. "It goes both ways, Zayn. I hurt when you do." I confessed, and I saw an emotion flicker in his eyes before I registered the fact that he leaned closer, so close that I could feel his breath fan over my lips.

"I want you to be mine." He whispered in a shaky voice, and I nodded, whispering "I already am yours," before our lips met again.

"Do you... want me... to be your... distraction?" I asked between kisses. His lips were slowly becoming addictive again. They were a necessity, and that scared me.

"No." He said, pulling back and looking me in the eyes with an assertive look. "No, Liam." He repeated. "You mean too much to me. You're too important. You're so much more than a distraction."

"You can't hurt yourself." I said, looking away from his piercing eyes.

"I won't. I haven't. Not in years." He promised, taking a hold of both of my hands, but I shook my head.

"You have. You have, Zayn. This obsessive drinking is hurting you. It's an addiction, and it's toxic." I said, sighing when he broke away from me and went toward the bed, sitting down on it.

"I can't just quit, Liam. It's not that easy." He sighed out in frustration, and I hated the way I tense up as his hand went to his hair, balling it up in frustration before he brought it back down to his thighs.

"I didn't say it was." I announced, walking to him and sitting beside him. We sat in silence for a few minutes before I took his hand in mine, tracing along the 'M' shape on the inside of his palm, and I looked closely, noticing tiny white marks that were no barely visible on his wrists. I've never noticed them before.

"Where?" I asked softly. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

"Mainly places I could hide it." He said, seeing my eye the tiny scars on his wrist. He didn't pull his hand away though, and I didn't let it go.

"Where?" I asked again, trying to speak calmly.

"My thighs. My legs." He let out, and I was curious to see the marks, but I never pressed.

"Why did you stop? What made you stop?"

"The fact that it wasn't helping. It wasn't drowning anything out. All of the scars and burns reminded me of him. How he would hurt me the same way." He confessed. "It only made it worse. Drinking makes me sad, but it also makes me blind to reality. A dizzying feeling. Like falling with no end."

"I want to help you stop." I confessed quietly, not sure if he'd get mad at the fact that I was pushing this so hard. I just wanted the best for him.

"You already help me, princess. Because when I'm with you, I'm not thinking about alcohol or partying until I can't see straight, or my past. I'm just peacefully stuck in now." He said with a small smile.

"I like now." I said shyly, looking down at where our hands were touching, but I heard Zayn let out a small laugh before he was lifting my chin up and pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

"What did your dad do to you?" I asked, and I knew I crossed the line when I felt his hold on my tighten. He was tense, and his eyes glazed over with a shield to hide him from everything.

"Nothing important." He brushed off.

"Zayn." I sighed, and I saw him glare at me in frustration.

"Why do you need to know so badly? Why do you always need to bring it up? Why can't we just... be happy for a while?" He asked, and I smiled sadly.

"Because we can't just be happy, Zayn. Not when our problems ruin everything. Not when I know someone's hurt you. Not when my dad could ruin things by just walking through the door. Not when I know something happened that made you deny your sexuality." I blurted out.

Zayn looked at me in panic and anger. I've learned anger was his go to when he didn't know what to do in a situation. "What the hell do you want me to say, Liam? That I'm gay? That I like boys? That I've had a crush on the same fucking person since elementary school? That I'm a coward? Because all of those are true, okay? Are you happy now!?" He shouted, but I wasn't scared. Not in this moment.

"Did he hit you?" I asked gently, moving to sit in Zayn's lap. I felt him visibly calm down as I straddled his legs, looking him in the eyes. I needed to know this. "Did he hit you... like my dad hits me?"

"Sometimes." He breathed out. "Only when I...." He trailed off, and I sighed, knowing I wouldn't get anything from him today. At least not the story of it.

"Can you just promise me you'll try to stop drinking? At least give me that." I said, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He stared back at me before speaking up.

"Let's make a deal." He began, and I felt nerves errupt within me. "I'll try to stop drinking if you try to start eating." He declared, and I swallowed thickly at his offer, looking down at my hands.

"I'm not worth that." I tried to say, but Zayn spoke right after me.

"Then I'm not worth anything else but the bit of buzz found at the end of every bottle."

I shut my eyes, thinking through this. I wanted to help Zayn, but I couldn't eat. It was such a hard thing for me to do, but maybe this would be just as hard for him. Maybe this will be a milestone for both of us.

"So, what's it gonna be, princess? I don't drink if you start eating." He reiterated, and I looked up at him, leaning in to kiss him once more before nodding, feeling out noses bump against each others before Zayn smile into the kiss.

Yes, it was a scary deal, and I didn't know if either of us would last a day, but we'd be in it together. Why did that mean so much to me?


	26. Difficult

I stared down at my tray of food, knowing that Zayn was watching me. I know we made this deal, and I really wanted Zayn to be okay, but it was hard to hold up my end of the bargain.

I lifted my fork to my mouth, feeling my stomach give an immediate resistance to any intake of food, but I had to. I took a deep breath, shutting my eyes before I ate the food laying on the fork's surface. Every single chew was pure torture, and I instantly felt full of regret. I wanted to spit it out and cry, thinking about how unattractive and useless I was.

I opened my eyes after I swallowed the food, looking at Zayn to see him hiding a small, approving smile behind his hand. It calmed my nerves just a bit, making my emotions manageable.

I turned as Louis walked over to the table, sitting beside me and immediately looking away from all of the guys. "Can we not sit here today?" He asked, and I knew he was afraid. The other guys obviously didn't like me for my sexuality, but they were friends with Louis. How would they react?

"Finally makes sense, Tomlinson. Why you suddenly began to hang out with the fag." One of the guys said, laughing along with all of the others, and I noticed Zayn tense up at the word, but he brushed it off.

"What are you talking about?" He asked them, and they turned to Zayn, all of them seeming to try to get his attention. It was as if they needed his approval on the things they said. They were clearly all followers, and it marveled me how Zayn didn't realize the power he had over people.

"You didn't hear, yet? Tomlinson confessed to the whole school yesterday. He's 100% gay. He's a little fucked up fag also. Want us to kick him off the table for you?" They asked, and I saw Zayn's jaw clench in anger before he turned to look at Louis.

"Is this true, Lou?" He asked, and I watched silently as Louis stared at his plate, visibly shaking at the fear of meeting his best friend's eyes. It was wrong. He shouldn't be afraid of someone he knew so well. Then again, I was terrified of Zayn. Terrified of the things he makes me feel and how he could rip it all away in a split second.

"I- I mean... I, uh...." He trailed off, and I saw him shake his head in disappointment as he got up and rushed away from the table, the other guys laughing and throwing pieces of food or plastic forks and spoons at him.

Zayn sat completely still.

He stared blankly at the table in front of him, allowing the bullying to happen. He looked up to meet my eyes, and I shook my head, feeling so angry as I got up and ran after Louis. He didn't deserve this. Nobody deserved to feel the way I've felt for so many years.

"Louis!" I called, running after his figure down the hallway. He tried to walk faster, but I caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around to be met with tears streaming down his face at the embarrassment.

"He hates me." He whimpered, and I knew he meant Zayn. I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to think your best friend hated you. I can't imagine what it feels like to be so in with a group only to be tossed out. But I did know what it felt like to have people torment you. I knew what it felt like to have someone so close to you only hurt you; to have someone you looked up to only scar you.

"He just sat there and... I couldn't admit it to him. He's given you hell for so many years, and I can't... he won't understand. What if he... fuck, what if he goes after Harry? What if he hurts him? Liam, I can't let anyone hurt him." He cried out, shaking and sobbing in the middle of the empty hallway.

"Louis, nobody is going to hurt Harry. They don't know a thing about him. They don't know his name, what he looks like, who he is. He'll be okay. I promise. And he'd be so proud of you for being brave enough to come out. Hell, I'm proud of you because you still did it even after seeing the torment I went through for it. You're brave, Louis. Don't let Zayn push you back in again." I expressed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." He nodded, wiping away some tears. "I guess it just sucks. The fact that he just sat there and didn't say anything or tell them to stop. He didn't even come after me. It's like I don't know my best friend." He sighed.

"Well, he's an idiot if he gives you up. Especially when you two were so close. You were his friend before he was Zayn Malik. Before he ruled the school and everyone around him." I reminded. Zayn was an idiot for just sitting there, and Louis shouldn't take it too personally.

"Yeah, that has to count for something. Doesn't it?" He asked, but I could only shrug.

"I don't know." I confessed. I don't think anyone knew the real Zayn. In fact, it scared me to think that I was the closest one to knowing who he truly was.  
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I sighed as I heard the all too familiar knock on my window. I looked to see Zayn standing there, a nervous look on his face, and I set my homework to the side, slipping off of the bed and walking over to open the window.

"What do you want, Zayn?" I questioned, backing up as he slipped inside. "You know you could use the front door when there're no cars in the driveway." I pointed out.

"Yeah, I just... the window is sort of our thing." He muttered out, looking down at his hands, and I only nodded, going back over to sit on my bed and continue my homework.

"So, um, what are you doing?" He asked, coming over to lean against my bed post, and I looked up at him.

"Homework." I replied simply, but I knew something was bothering him. I knew it must have been about Louis. "But I don't think that's why you came. I don't think you just wanted a casual conversation because it's never casual." I pointed out.

"Yeah. I just don't know where to start." He said, sighing as he sat down on the opposite side of my bed, not looking me in the eyes at all. I didn't like this awkward behavior.

"Well, we could start with the fact that Louis is really hurt." I said, watching as Zayn tensed up. "Zayn, why did you just sit there and allow that to happen today? Louis is your best friend. He always has been." I said, setting my homework down again.

"Because there was nothing I could do." He muttered out.

"Bullshit." I said, making his eyes snap to mine, and I saw the anger behind them, but I didn't let that stop me like I normally would. "What, Zayn? Are you mad because you're being exposed? No, I think you're more upset with yourself." I said, standing up from the bed and walking around toward him.

"You could have said something. You have so much control over everyone and everything, and you don't even fucking realize it! You're so blind to your own power and potential. They all follow you like little lab rats, and you don't have the guts to tell them to stop. It's cowardice!" I exclaimed, obviously hitting a nerve because he stood up as well, walking toward me.

"I don't have control, Liam! Nothing is in my control, okay!? You may think it is, but it's not because I have no fucking idea what I'm do-ing!" He yelled, voice cracking near the end, and I held my breath as he grabbed my face, resting his forehead against mine, our noses bumping against each other, and that similar haze overtook me. The haziness that surrounded me whenever Zayn was close enough.

"I haven't had control over anything in so long. I don't even know how to control myself. Especially not around you." He confessed, and I felt my heart jump as he lowered his hand until his finger was resting right against my pulse, feeling my heartbeat.

"I go day by day pretending to maneuver and manipulate everyone around me, but, the truth is, I have no idea how it works. I have nothing figured out, and I'm... I'm so afraid." He whispered.

I hesitantly rested my hand above his on my cheek, not wanting to break him but also not wanting him to move away, no matter how upset I was at what he did. I could never push him away. Not after how close we've gotten.

"You can figure it out." I stated calmly, trying to appease his mind. "We can figure it out. But you have to start by being brave enough to not care about everybody else around you. Because, whether you admit it or not, you do care. It shows in the way you only give me old jackets, it shows in the way you act around me at school, and it showed at that lunch table today."

"It's easier said than done." He admitted, and I knew it was. I still care about everyone's opinions. It's just how we are as humans, but I knew Zayn. He was so beautiful, yet so corrupted inside.

"I know... but I'll be right by you through it. And so will Louis. Because you're so much more than the Zayn they think they know." I said, smiling a bit in hopes of calming the fear behind his eyes, and it worked as he smiled back before pecking my lips.

"I'm proud of you." He added, looking me in the eyes with so much adoration that my heart felt overflowed with emotion. "For trying to eat today. I know it's not easy, but I... I'll hold up my end as well. It's actually why I came here."

"You were tempted to drink?" I asked, remembering how he said he needed it to cope with sadness. It meant he was upset, and I didn't like thinking of Zayn being upset.

"I let Louis down, and I let you down." He said, his thumb moving to trace along my bottom lip as he gave a sad smile. "All I am is a fuck up."

"Who told you that?" I immediately asked, seeing the deep pain in his eyes. It was deeper than the situation that happened today. It meant so much more to him, and I wanted to know what happened, but he was too boxed up to tell me. "Zayn, who told you that?"

"You know who." He said, that same sad smile on his face, and my heart ached for him.

"Your dad." I whispered out, trying not to hurt him anymore than he already was. Never would I have imagined that Zayn Malik was so fragile. Much like tungsten metal, he looked hard and strong, but in all actuality, he was brittle and breakable.

He only nodded, closing his eyes, and I could only stand there, admiring his features and imagining what could have possibly happened to him. "You're not, Zayn. Everyone messes up, but it's all about how we fix our mistakes."

"I'm not good at fixing things. All I do is push things aside." He said, looking me in the eyes again. "I still haven't fixed your hurt. I know I haven't. And I don't know how."

"You can't. Just like I can't fix yours. Because we're always going to hurt each other. It hurts so much to be near you like this." I confessed, and it was only then that I noticed our breathing pattern. He would breath in as I breathed out, and vice versa. It was a bittersweet discovery. How in sync we were.

"I know." He agreed, his voice coming out strained. "I feel it, too. And I know it hurts, but I cam't help but want you closer. I think... I think I'm always going to want you closer, princess." He divulged, and I felt a shiver run up my spine as his lips brushed against mine gently.

"I think... I'll always want to be closer." I assured, and all of the words I knew seemed to slip my mind as he pressed his lips to mine, the whole world seeming to freeze in this one moment.

I felt my knees go weak as Zayn smiled into the kiss, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold me up. I pulled away, blushing in embarrassment. I hated that my body betrayed just how much he affected me, but I also loved it a lot.

"You're perfect." He stated it so sincerely, never breaking eye contact, and I felt so many things all at once, several emotions of happiness, pain, and something that I couldn't describe, but I found myself wanting more.

Our lips met again as I kissed him, not thinking about the massive amounts of fear I felt at how alive he made me feel. The fluttering in my heart was only created by him, and I knew this attachment was dangerous, but it was also addictive.

We moved to my bed, and I found myself laying underneath Zayn, and my heart was racing, but it wasn't from fear. I couldn't define the feeling, but it was anxiety mixed with desperation, hope mixed with happiness, healing mixed with free-falling. It was a rush.

I let out a small moan as I felt Zayn move down to kiss my neck, sucking lightly on the skin, and I struggled to speak clearly.

"My... my d-dad will see m-ma-marks, Zayn." I stuttered out, feeling a warmth begin to build in my stomach, but I trusted Zayn. I may not be ready for... that, but I trusted that Zayn would know. He would be okay with it.

"I won't leave any." He promised before kissing right where my pulse was on my neck, and he smiled while I died of embarrassment at the fact that my heart skipped a beat at the feeling.

"I will never get tired of this." He whispered, and it was said so quietly that I wasn't sure I was suppose to hear it, but I did. I did, and I could only agree. It was nothing like I've ever felt when I was with Zayn. It was incredible.

I felt him begin to move away from me, and I desperately grabbed a hold of his arms, keeping him above me, and he looked down at me in concern.

"Why are you leaving?" I asked, and I probably seemed clingy and attached, but I was, and it may be reckless to allow him to see that, but I didn't care in this moment.

"I'm not. Just going to lay beside you." He promised, looking me in the eyes. "I would never leave you." He stated, and it was an imprudent thing to confess, but I couldn't deny that it made my heart beat faster than ever before, and I felt like I was holding my breath, eventhough I was breathing just fine.

"Never?" I dared to ask, feeling all of my hesitation and self-restraint snapping and unhinging, like a bridge falling down. I could feel myself trembling, and I knew Zayn felt it, too as he grabbed my hand in his, pressing light kisses to my knuckles. The motion was too much. Too soft, too sweet, too loving.

"Never." He stated, meeting my lips again in a gentle kiss, and I felt as if he was stealing all of my breath away, but I didn't mind the lack of oxygen. Not as long as I had him.

"How is it that you drive me insane but keep me stable at the same time?" He asked, mumbling the words against my temple as he pressed a kiss there and laid down beside me. I immediately drifted into his warmth, snuggling into his side as his arms wrapped around me.

"I don't know. How is it that everything about you terrifies me but reels me in at the same time?" I questioned back.

"I could ask the same thing." He whispered, lifting my chin so I was looking up at him. "I came to you because you make me feel normal. Like what happened to me never truly happened. You don't hold expectations, and I need that. I came here because being near you makes me feel so lucky. There're a million other guys out there that would fall for you. Why would you ever like me?" He expressed.

"There are a million other guys out there that would kill to even have your attention- even the straight ones- so why me?" I shot back, looking into his beautiful amber brown eyes that seemed to shine with happiness right now. True happiness, something I hardly saw in Zayn.

"Because I... you're flawless. Maybe not flawless, because everyone has flaws, but you... you have perfect imperfections. And I... I admire everything about you. I never expected to feel this way about you, Liam, but I love the way it feels." He confessed. "Why me?"

"Because..." I trailed off, thinking of all of the reasons why I was attracted to Zayn. It was more than just his looks. He's always been beautiful, no doubt, but I've never felt this way about him through all of those years. So what was it that drew me to him now? There were too many things to think about, and I didn't know how to sum it all up.

"Because you're worth so much more than the price tag you give yourself." I confessed, seeing his face turn serious as his smile fell away and he looked at me in awe.

"I don't deserve someone like you." He whispered, and I shook my head.

"Everyone deserves someone to make them happy. And I think... I think maybe... possibly... people could be made for each other." I said, feeling ao alive inside, but that dull ache was still there, and I didn't know what this feeling was, but I didn't want it to stop.

"You were definitely made for me, princess. I... you mean so much to me. So much." He revealed before pulling me into another kiss, one that felt full of life itself.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was dangerous. Maybe taking this risk wouldn't be worth it in the end. All I knew was that Zayn Malik made my heart pound and my thoughts fade and my hands shake and my head spin. He made me feel things I've always been afraid to feel, and he felt the same way.

Maybe I didn't know what love was, but I was pretty sure it went something like this. And that thought terrified me. It froze me to the core. Because love hurt. I knew that much. There were always disappointment, complications, failures, and I was already so broken that I didn't think my heart could take it, but as I looked into Zayn eyes and felt his lips meet mine again, I let out a sigh and let my thoughts fade away again.

I may be afraid of this feeling, but it was all I had to hold on to.


	27. Songs

Everyone seemed to be staring as Louis and I sat at our own table in the lunch room. I could tell Louis was uneasy, and it wasn't that I liked the attention, but I was just so use to it. I was use to the glares and hatred. Louis was new to it all.

He stared down at his tray of food, looking so upset and alone, and I knew there was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing at all.

"Have you told Harry about this?" I asked him, thinking that he could help him out of this rut he was in. He shook his head, and I sighed. "Why not? He would be supportive, Louis."

"Because he's practicing so hard for this show case, and I don't want to be a distraction. He's doing so well, and all I want to do is support him to be his best. Besides, he doesn't know that I wasn't out yet." He admitted.

"Even if he didn't know that, he'll still be proud of you. Harry seems like a perfectly reasonable person-"

"He is." Louis interrupted. "He is, but he's also been through a lot, and I don't want him thinking I was ever ashamed of him or anything because I'm not. I never was. It was my fear, not shame. He makes me so proud to be with him." He said.

"Then tell him that." I declared. "You won't be a distraction."

I looked Louis in the eyes until he nodded and then tensed up as we heard a familiar voice beginning to tease. "So, the two fags are completely outcasted again? Gonna cry, Tomlinson? Finally realized how fucking disgusting you are?" Drew asked as he was walking by, and Louis stood up to shoot back, but he didn't need to as Zayn came walking over. I looked down at the ground to hide my smile and how proud I was of him.

Drew stopped talking as soon as he saw him, the smile being wiped off of his face. "You never know when to quit, do you?" Zayn asked with a smirk. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say your crush on Louis is getting out of hand." He stated, and Drew mumbled out a 'whatever' before turning and walking away.

Louis sat down again, never even turning his head to look at Zayn, and I understood that he was still scared of what he would say. I looked to see Zayn staring at me with his own fear, and I nodded to encourage him to do this.

He took a deep breath and sat beside Louis, making the whole cafeteria fall silent. Louis tensed up, but he was instantly calmed when Zayn spoke. 

"I'm sorry for the way I acted yesterday, Lou. You're my best friend, and I guess... I guess I was just really shocked. Why didn't you ever tell me?" He asked, doing his best to ignore all of the people staring. They really needed to get lives of their own.

"Because you... you hated Liam for being gay, so I assumed you-"

"I didn't hate Liam." He said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before letting it out again. "I was just confused, okay. And I am not explaining that to you." He said, but Louis only nodded.

"I guess I should also tell you that I'm dating someone. I have been for a while. Um... his name's Harry, and he's absolutely wonderful." Louis expressed, a small smile playing on his features.

"That's great, Louis. Everyone deserves someone to make them happy." He said, glancing over at me, and I stared down at my tray of food, knowing that he would notice it was still full. "I'm sorry you had to hide this from me when I should have just been there for you."

"It's okay. Maybe I should have just admitted it instead of running from the truth." Louis shrugged back. "So... you're okay with this?" He asked, and Zayn nodded.

"Of course. Regardless of what everyone here thinks, I'm not homophobic." He said, and I could tell Louis was a bit confused on Zayn's sudden acceptance of the sexuality, but if he knew the whole story, Zayn would be forced go be out, and I didn't plan on forcing anybody. Still, Louis accepted it.

"Good." Louis said before looking back over at me. "Oh, Liam, guess who Harry says is nervous to see you at the show case?" He asked, and Zayn raised an eyebrow at the topic. I completely forgot that I never mentioned the show case to him.

"Um, who?" I asked, avoiding Zayn's gaze.

"Niall." Louis said with a smirk, and I saw Zayn's jaw clench. "You know, Harry's blonde friend that went out to lunch with us the day before yesterday." He said, and I nodded.

"I remember." I muttered out, wishing that Louis would stop talking about it now.

"Well, apparently he told Harry that he thought you were cute after we left. He has a total crush on you, and I think you should go for it. Niall's a nice guy, and he's also very fun. His sense of humor is great." He pushed. "You two would be great for each other." He said, and I watched as Zayn let out a breath and began eating his food, seeming as if he wasn't listening or interested, but I knew he was listening intently.

"Niall seems nice and very caring, but I... I don't really know him." I said. It wasn't the words that I truly wanted to say, but it was all I could think of. How was I suppose to out Zayn to his best friend? He should build up the courage to do that himself, and I think sticking by Louis could be the first step.

"That's why you get to know him." Louis said in an obvious tone, and I really didn't know what else to say, so I fell silent as Louis and Zayn started up a conversation of their own. And I dreaded the fact that I was sat in silence yet again.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Who's Niall?" I heard Zayn ask, and I jumped in surprise. I was barely beginning my walk home, and I expected to take it alone like most other days. In a way, I was glad Zayn was here, but I wasn't so excited about the choice of topic.

"He's Harry's friend. I don't even really know him. We've only just met this week." I said, turning away from him and beginning to walk again. He kept in pace beside me, and I felt a bit of disappointment in me as I realized that if we were normal, we would probably be dating and holding hands right now. But this... whatever we had... was our normal, and I loved it.

"Well, regardless, he invited you to a show case and Louis says he's interested in you. So either this little lunch date got very interesting, or that wasn't the only time you've spoken to him." He accused, and I shook my head in disbelief.

"So it's not possible for someone to just like me?" I questioned.

"No." He grumbled out, and I let out a small laugh, though the answet did hurt.

"Unbelievable." I mumbled, walking faster to try and get away from Zayn, but he caught my arm and turned me around.

"What? What's so unbelievable?" He asked.

"Just the fact that you basically just said I'm unlikable." I said. "I know I'm not the best looking person around, so you don't have to remind me of that." I added, not even wanting to look him in the eyes. "And if I'm so unlikable, then maybe we should just-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Liam, and you know it." He declared, pulling me toward him, and I struggled to hold my anger as he looked me in the eyes, a new emotion found there. "I just... don't like the fact that someone else could have your attention. Someone not as complicated as I am. Someone who you could probably give you what you want. Someone who hasn't hurt you. I don't like the thought of you being in someone else's arms when you're mine. You're my princess." He whispered out, lifting my chin a bit higher so our lips were brushing together, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the realization that we were still outside, in the middle of the sidewalk as cars drove by. Maybe it wasn't school, where everyone could see, but it was still public.

"So... you're scared?" I questioned, knowing that he was as I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding against it as he took a deep breath in.

His nose bumped mine as he nodded. "Terrified. Of everything. How I feel about you. How badly I want to kiss you almost every second of every day. How... right... it feels to hold you." He explained with a gulp. "And I'm terrified of the inevitability of losing you to someone else."

"Zayn..." I breathed out, resting my forehead on his as he took a sharp intake of breath. "That won't happen. I'm just as terrified as you are. Of all of it. Of how badly I want to stay yours." I confessed. Even if we didn't have a label on what we were, I wanted to keep it. I wanted it so badly.

"And that scares me even more." He whispered out. "The fact that someone as... beautiful and wholesome as you could want someone as fucked up as me. And the fact that I want you just as much."

"I'm yours." I nodded, feeling his hand envelope my own. "I'm your princess." I stated, and and I couldn't help but smile as Zayn let out a breathy laugh of relief and joy.

"My princess." He whispered before pressing our lips together, and it was a whole other buzz when it was right in the open. Something that made me feel hopeful and proud. It was a short kiss, but it held so much care, and I wanted it to happen all over again.

"Um... do you... maybe want to come to my house?" He questioned, seeming so small and shy, which was an unusual sight to see. Zayn was usually so strong and confident, but that could be all part of his act. It was nothing like how he was as a child.

"Yes. Of course." I nodded, accepting the offer, and I felt butterflies within me as Zayn grabbed my hand and pulled me along beside him as we walked down the sidewalk. We didn't talk. We didn't say a word to one another. But it wasn't needed. It was scary, but I just felt whole when I was with Zayn. I felt understood, and I felt... loved.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, hello, Liam!" Colette exclaimed as she walked into the living room in pajamas and curlers in her hair. "If I would have known you were coming I wouldn't have stayed in bed all day." She joked, accepting the kiss on the cheek that Zayn usually gave her. I could tell he truly admired her, and it was probably because she was his mother figure now.

"It's fine. You look lovely. It's new for me to see an adult so relaxed." I confessed. I don't remember the last time my mum got a true break from work, and my dad was usually dressed up to make himself at least appear like a good human being.

"Oh, sweetheart. Do your parents work often?" She asked, and I only nodded my head, not wanting to dive further into that. "Well, if you ever need anything, you can always come over. We'd both be so happy to help." He offered, and I thanked her before she nodded.

"I'm just grabbing a drink and heading back to my room. You two have fun." She said, walking by us and toward the kitchen. I felt Zayn tug on my hand again, and I followed behind him to his room.

I looked around the room as soon as I walked inside, feeling so familiar with it all, regardless of the fact that I've only been inside of it a few times. I heard Zayn close the door, and I turned to speak to him, only to be silenced as soon as his lips pressed to mine.

I melted in his hold, feeling like putty in his hands. I knew that this vulnerability was dangerous to show, but I also knew that I could trust Zayn. I never imagined I would be able to let go so easily.

I kissed him back, feeling him turn us around and walk until my back came in contact with the door. I felt him pull away all too soon, and I did my best to chase after his lips. He smiled before kissing me twice more and then looking me in the eyes.

"There's something I want to show you." He said, and I nodded, looking into his gorgeous eyes that seemed to hold fear and trust. It meant so much to see that trust evident there. "I've never shown anyone before, and I... I just..."

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his again, grabbing a hold of his hand as I felt it trembling against my waist. He was clearly nervous, but there was really no need to be. I squeezed his hand and felt him relax a bit. "It's okay, Zayn. It's just me." I whispered, and I wondered why everything sounded so promising in a whisper. Because it was only between us, possibly. It was for us to know only. Nobody else.

He nodded and took my hand, motioning for me to sit on the bed as he went over to his dresser, opening up the bottom drawer and pulling out a book. He sighed as he looked down at it before closing the drawer, standing up, and walking back over to me, his eyes never leaving the journal.

"This is... This is every song I've ever written that is personal to me." He confessed, and I noticed his hands shaking again. "I don't take them to school. I don't take them out of that dresser because... because they always bring back so many memories. But I want you to see them." He said, holding out the journal to me, and I hesitantly took it, feeling my heart skip a beat at what he was allowing me to see.

"You said you wanted to know who I am, and I think this is as close as it gets. A lot of them don't have words because I'm not very good with words. I never have been. But I... I want you to know the things I've felt." He said, as he sat down beside me, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he rested his forehead on the side of my head, just being there as I looked at the journal in my hands.

This was it. Zayn was a locked up diary, and all of his secrets, all of his emotions, were in this one little journal. I wanted to open it, but I was so afraid of what I would discover.

"I trust you, princess." He reiterated, and I took a deep breath before opening the front cover, seeing Zayn's name written perfectly in the center of the first page. Tiny sketches and quotes filled the page around his name, some handwriting that was older, and some that was new. It was lovely, and it took my breath away.

I traced my fingers over the many quotes. "Some baby birds leave the nest too soon." I read, and I felt an ache in my chest for Zayn. Some birds fall to their death while others are injured and alone in a world of danger. I wonder which Zayn felt.

I turned the page and saw notes scribbled out among the lines, and I recognized the song. It was his first song. The somg about the baby bird.

Seeing the notes scribbled out onto a page was something painfully beautiful. Each note held so many emotions, and it was carved deliberately into the page, bleeding out the story of Zayn's life.

I turned to the next song, seeing that the notes held the same amount of pain as the first song, but there was no bit of happiness in this one. It was dreadful, as if there was no end to life's dismay. It was as if Zayn was stuck in a black hole, finding no way out, and it had a sense of fear and danger that made my eyes begin to water.

The next few songs were exactly the same. He was lost, he was hurt, he was giving up on everything. I turned the page again, seeing the title of the song. "Drunken Distress." And I began to read, seeing a touch of anger and self-hatred in the notes. They were sharp notes, as if he was angry at the world, and I knew this must have been when the drinking began, which meant all of the pain and suffering was all of his years of self-harm.

"Zayn, I-" I began, my throat feeling so hoarse due to the choked up emotions inside of me. I couldn't believe all he's been through.

"It's okay." He comforted, pressing another kiss to my temple, and I closed my eyes under the soft touch. I felt a tear fall, but Zayn wiped it away. "Keep reading, princess."

I turned the page, letting out a shaky breath as there was so much anger. Every single song. They were sharp, as if the piano could give nothing but a sharp, stale sound. He was so angry at everything.

I turned again, reading a much calmer song. It seemed subdued, hazy, as if he was allowing his anger to slowly fade away into something else. Something that was numb. He suppressed the memory away. He locked up his emotions. He forgot how to feel.

I didn't like these pages. The pages felt as if he gave up on life itself, as if he wasn't even alive as he wrote the notes. They were dull, they were sedated, they were death dancing on a page.

I took a deep breath before turning, reading every page carefully and taking every emotion, locking it away and keeping it safe. I would value every single note on the pages. They seemed to float off of the pages, staining over my heart in a torturous branding.

I turned the page again, finding that it was the last page. I read the title as my breath seemed to leave me. One word. Princess.

I felt Zayn smile against the skin on my neck, resting his head there, and I shivered under his touch as his fingers played with the small hairs on the back of my neck. It was too close, too intimate, almost suffocating, but I embraced it. I allowed myself to.

I read the final song, feeling a tidal wave of so many emotions. There was that sadness, fear, anger, confusion, torment, resentment, resistance, regret, disappointment. So much self-hatred. But it was also filled with adoration, nurturing, happiness, security, safety, calmness, serendipity, so, so much admiration, cherishing, and....

I looked up at Zayn, feeling my heart beating faster than it ever has before. He was already looking at me, and I couldn't stop the tears building in my eyes as I pulled him to me, pressing my lips against his. It was tragically beautiful the way we were, and I didn't want to change a thing.

Maybe we weren't perfect, maybe this wasn't easy, maybe it was completely coincidental, and maybe we were as incompatible as fire and ice, but it was a lovely thing. A horrific and blissful pain.

Maybe a bit of fire was all it took to melt two frozen hearts into one.


	28. Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of physical/sexual abuse, self-harm, small mentions of religion, and of near suicide. Please, please, please read carefully. I love you all, and I really do care about you guys.  
> Love always.

"Why did you show me this?" I asked, looking down at the journal that was still in my hands. I set it down on the bed before snuggling a bit closer to Zayn. Laying in his bed seemed to be the only thing that brought so much comfort. Laying close to him seemed to be the only thing that made me feel okay.

"Because I wanted you to know." He simple replied, our eyes never looking away from each others. I couldn't look away. It was terrying to admit, but I felt like Zayn was the center of my universe. It all revolved around him. Everything I did.

"The last one..." I trailed off, suddenly becoming nervous under his endearing gaze. "Was it about me?" I questioned. I didn't know what I wanted the answer to be. If it was a no, I would probably feel disappointed, wishing Zayn felt that way toward me. If it was a yes, I would fall even deeper into the story that is Zayn's life.

"Yes." He smiled softly, lifting his hand up and moving a piece of hair that fell flat against my face. "It was." He admitted, and I was suddenly paralyzed under Zayn's gaze. He truly shared his deepest emotions, and I was thankful for that. I didn't know how to repay him for that.

We laid there silently, our eyes searching one anothers for a sign of, well, anything. That deep connection we both must be feeling but simply brush aside. I saw so much behind Zayn's eyes, and I finally felt as if that window that was locked up was now open, allowing me to see inside.

"Zayn," I gulped, looking away from his eyes and down to his arm, trailing my fingers against the tanned skin and watching the way the hairs stood up as goosebumps formed. "What happened to you?" I questioned, closing my eyes and hoping he wouldn't push me away, not after everything.

"My dad hurt me. And my mum never knew." He whispered out, his voice becoming thick with emotions, and I looked back up at him, seeing that he never stopped looking at me.

"How?" I asked, and I saw him swallow thickly, his jaw clenching as the memories seemed to build behind his beautiful eyes. Zayn was a beautiful person, and I couldn't believe he was so destroyed on the inside- alone for so long.

"Liam... promise me... promise that you won't leave me if I tell you this. Promise me that you... promise that you'll stay." He begged, and I saw the tears building in his eyes this time. His voice was thick and heavy, hoarse and dry. And he had the vulnerability of a child, clinging on to anything to keep them safe.

I grabbed his hand tightly in mine, pressing a kiss to his knuckles as I looked him in the eyes, letting him know I was here. Even if it hurt... I would be here.

"I'm not leaving you, Zayn." I declared, holding a steady gaze and tone of voice. "I'm your princess, remember?" I reminded, seeing a thankful smile form on his lips before he looked down and took a deep breath. I knew this was hard for him, and I never wanted to leave him alone. I wouldn't dream of it.

"M-my dad he..." He stuttered out, his grip on my hand tightening, and I allowed it. I wouldn't pull away. I'd let him hold onto me as tightly as he needed to, and I'd be here, holding him just as he held me when my dad raised havoc.

"He touched me. The way a father shouldn't." He announced shakily, and my heart dropped. I felt like everything was so far away. Like nothing was real. Like this confession wasn't real. Because Zayn was everything to me. Everything and more. And he didn't deserve it. Nobody deserved it.

I snapped out of my thoughts as I felt Zayn's body shaking against me, fear and emotions ripping through him as he struggled to breath properly. I panicked as he began struggling for air, taking deep breaths and sobbing out loud. He was broken. So broken. Like fragile glass that slipped through my hands. I had to try to pick up all the pieces.

So I held him close, wrapping my arms around him as he continued to struggle. "I... I can't... Liam, I- I need- please! I can't, I can't, I can't." He cried, and I knew he didn't want to relive it. He didn't want to go back to the darkness. All of the anger, sadness, and hatred that I read in the songs. He was afraid of it. And I was afraid for him.

"You can." I stated, thankful that my voice sounded calm and strong when I was anything but. "You can do this. I'm right here. I... I've got you." I whispered, kissing the top of his head as he continued.

"I d-don't know how long... he did it." He continued, and it felt as if I was being torn apart at his confessions. I never imagined something so dark. "I was too young to remember the first time. But it continued... for years." He drew out.

"He would tell my mum that he'd give me a bath... that she didn't need to worry about it...." He trailed off, tears spilling from his eyes at the memory. "He said that he loved me, that it was our secret. Me, being that young... I- I thought it was a game. Even if I... I didn't like the touches, I thought it was a game." He cried, and I felt agonizing pain for Zayn. It felt like someone was taking the other half of my heart and was poking holes in it one by one.

"Sometimes- when I had nightmares- he'd come into my room... he'd tell me he knew a way to get rid of the monsters." He explained, and I didn't like the way Zayn's voice was becoming distant, as if he was shutting down on himself all over again. I didn't want him to shut down on me.

I squeezed his hand on mine, letting him know I was still here. He wouldn't get hurt, and I was still here. And he came back to me slowly, emotions running through him again.

"As I got older, I knew it was wrong. I knew it. But I never told. Because I was ashamed. How- how do you tell someone that you let your dad do that to you? That he used you that way? I- I couldn't." He said, and I hated how close to home that statement was. How terrifying and shameful it felt.

"I began to fight back." He mumbled out against my shirt-sleeve. "And that's when he hit me." He divulged, and I tensed under his grip. Molested and abused. No child should ever go through that.

"He w-would hit me... whenever I tried to resist his touch." He said. "A-and it got worse... when I realized I liked boys." I felt him tense up as well now, and I found that I was holding my breath, clinging on to Zayn and every word he said.

"The first time I kissed a boy was in sixth grade. I- I didn't mean to. We were working on that stupid science project at my house, and he j-just leaned in." He confessed, and I set aside my curiosity and jealousy, knowing that was unimportant in this moment. I needed to be here for Zayn.

"M-my dad saw. And later that night... he came into my room...." He trailed off, seeming so afraid of his own memories. I saw his face scrunch up in pain as his hands went to his hair, tugging tightly on it, and I knew the memory was too strong. He was hurting himself to get through it, and I couldn't have that.

"Zayn... I'm here. I'm right here." I said, prying his hand from his hair and allowing him to squeeze it. I felt my hand going numb, but I didn't mind. I didn't mind getting hurt for him.

"He told me that he'd show me what happened when we went against God's wishes." He whimpered out, and I watched a tear drop down his cheek, doing my best to wipe it away, but another quickly replaced it. It was a waterfall, a tidal wave of emotion, and I felt pure fear run through me, hoping Zayn wasn't too far gone into the past.

"He hit me... violated me... hurt me... used me the way he wanted to. And I tried to cry out for my mum, but he was stronger. He held my mouth the whole time, and I- I was helpless. The one time I worked up the courage to call for help, it was useless. I was useless." He sobbed against my chest, and I began to shake, angry and terrified as well. It was pure horror, and a part of me wished I never asked.

"I remember his words... the whole time. Good boys don't sin. Perfect boys don't sin. Holy boys don't sin. Proper boys don't sin. Nice boys don't sin. A mantra over and over. Boys don't sin." He said, letting out a cold and bitter laugh that held so much agony. "I believed that my sin outweighed his. I was in the wrong, and he continued the abuse. Sometimes physical... sometimes sexual."

"I prayer every night for forgiveness. I prayed... I actually prayed. I begged for reconciliation. I apologized for my sin. And I thought God was punishing me through my dad." He announced, and I remembered how Zayn use to be religious. Everyday, he'd wear a necklace to school, symbolizing his pride in his religion. I remember noticing that he took it off in middle school, but I never knew why.

"Then... I began to hurt myself. Because I was a living sin. I carved the word into my skin." He divulged, and I realized that tears were falling down my cheeks as well, the ache so painful from his confessions. I felt breathless, but not in the way Zayn made me feel. Breathless as if I was drowning and there was no way to get oxygen, breathless as if I was high on a mountain, freezing and dying in the frigid, thin air that burned through my lungs.

"Everyday... I retraced it hundreds of times. Because he... he always reminded me. Boys don't sin. And I did. I was useless, worthless, a fuck up. I hated him... I hated living." He confessed, and I clung onto him for dear life, not liking the words that left his mouth.

"I remember cutting too deep. One time." He whispered out, seeming to fade into the memory. "It was a release. Calming. Feeling my life pour out of me like a fountain... and then I realized that my mum would care. My mum would be devastated. So I bounded up my wrist. I could have died. I could have bled out. And I was scared. So scared and alone... bleeding on white sheets."

"After my mum died... my dad got worse. He would beat me, sometimes all through the weekend, and I pushed on. It continued until I finally had enough." He said, his jaw clenching as he swallowed thickly. "I told my aunt." He stated out in a deep breath. "I told her everything. All of the years and years of torture... and she wasn't disgusted by me. She didn't blame me, but I blamed me. I still do." He admitted.

"My dad was sent to jail, and I was sent here to live with my aunt. But I still wasn't happy. I was afraid. Afraid of who I was inside. Because... I was a sin." He said, finally looking up at me and into my eyes. I didn't like the way the tears seemed to pool in his gorgeous brown eyes. I didn't like the way he seemed so broken but still tried his best to stay whole. I didn't like the way he still seemed to be trying to hold me together when it should be me holding him together.

"I didn't like the thoughts I had when I saw you." He admitted. "Every single day... and I took it out- on you." He stated, his voice breaking as he let the words out. I realized that Zayn never hated me. He hated himself. He hated his feelings. He tried to run away from them for so long.

"So I hurt you.... Fuck, I hurt you the same way my dad hurt me. The same way your dad hurts you. The same way Drew did. And... I'm such a fuck up. I never should have done that. I never should have... I never should have h-hit you... I never should have c-came into y-your l-life." He cried out, eyes begging for some type of forgiveness, and it hurt to see the broken pieces of the mirror in his eyes on display so carelessly.

"I- I was afraid to touch you... when we got close." He said, reaching a shaky hand up to cup my cheek, and I leaned into his touch, doing my best to calm his nerves, let him know this was okay. He let out a deep breath as I did so, a few tears spilling from his eyes, but he seemed relieved. "I was so afraid... because I knew I'd like it. Shit, I like it so damn much. I love the feeling of your skin on mine, and I love when we kiss, and I love how right it feels to hold you, and how you make me feel okay, and how... how my dad was wrong." He rushed out, emotions building up inside of him.

"I didn't want to touch you because I thought I knew the consequence. I thought it would be that same pain, but it's not. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it is an ache deep within me, but it's not killing me. If anything, it's helping me survive." He breathed out.

"I was afraid to be touched because I wanted to suppress those memories of having been touched before. And it was wrong. I hate him every day for manipulating me like he did. I hate him for using me and lying to me. I hate him for taking away something so innocent and pure from me. I hate him for creating this fear inside of me. I hate him for making me hate you. And I hate him for making me feel worthless enough to hurt myself as well." He struggled out, his teeth clenching and hands balling into fists.

"I relive that memory at the end of every bottle of wine, or whiskey, or beer. It's why I punish myself whenever I let you down. Or anyone down. Because he made me feel like I deserve it. Now I know I deserve it." He finished, shutting his eyes and crying heavily into my chest.

I held him through it.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, and he did the same. It was like we were holding each other, and I understood the bittersweet pain that emitted from either of us being this close to the other. That raw, unspoken ache in the chest. That longing to be closer than was humanely possible. His dad was wrong. So wrong.

"You don't deserve it, Zayn." I stated, trying to speak as clearly and calmly as I could with the fear of the discovery ringing through me. I wasn't afraid of Zayn, I was afraid of hurting him even more.

I lifted his head, looking him in the eyes, and it was unusual to be the one holding all of the strength. His eyes looked tired, done, and begging for something to hold on to. His eyes were true hurt, if ever I did see it.

"You don't deserve it. Your dad was wrong. You may have been hurt, but you don't have to stay broken." I said, gripping onto his hand to let him see that I would not leave. "We can get passed this together because I meant what I said. I'm not leaving you."

"And your mum." I gently stated, feeling him take in a deep breath at the mention of her. "She'd be so proud, Zayn." I spoke honestly. "She'd be proud that you won the fight in the long-run, that you stand where you do today. She'd think you're so strong. You were at your lowest point, you could have ended it all, but you fought. And I am so thankful that you fought." I confessed, swallowing thickly as I did my best to hold my tears back. I just didn't want to imagine where I would be without Zayn. I would have never gotten bullied like I did for years, but I wouldn't know what this feels like... whatever this is.

"Zayn...." I trailed off, resting my hand on the nape of his neck, and I admired the way his skin formed goosebumps under the touch, how he leaned into it instead of shying away, how his hair seemed to stand up from it. He only deserved these soft gestures. What happened to him began at such a young age and it lasted so long. It was shocking, and it was painful, but I neededbto be by his side more than ever before.

"I... have you ever been in love?" I asked, and I felt my heart pounding in my chest, a rush of anxiety filling through me at the fact that I asked that question. It wasn't appropriate after what he just confessed to me. Why was I only taking more?

"Yes." He nodded, and I was speechless. My heart ached and longed for that type of love, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. I was so afraid to let go and fall, even when Zayn leaned up, pressing his lips to mine softly.

"Liam," He began, and I hummed in response. "My dad told me that liking a boy was a sin." He reiterated, and I felt the same stinging pain at the words.

"It's not." I whispered out.

Zayn let out a small laugh, his eyes still watery and red, and there was nothing more painfully beautiful.

"Maybe it is." He admitted. "But..." He looked me straight in the eyes, our foreheads resting against one another, and I was terrified of the intimacy, the closeness, the way he was completely open with me. "If this is what sinning feels like... I don't think I care about heaven." He stated, and I never felt a more powerful emotion than when he connected our lips after that statement.

Maybe the rumors were true, and there was no pain in heaven. Maybe there was no anxiety, or nerves, or hurt, ot tears, but I didn't know who to be without it all. 

And if pain was all I felt by Zayn's side, well, maybe heaven wasn't so great.

Maybe we walked blindly down a hazardous road and found our own heaven.


	29. Interstellar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slight sexual content involved

I woke up to a dark room, a tiny bit of moonlight filtering through Zayn's window. I never went home. I couldn't leave him, not after all he confessed. I couldn't leave him broken and alone.

I looked to my side, seeing that the space next to me was completely empty, and I felt a longing to have Zayn back beside me. It was unhealthy to feel a constant need for someone. It was unhealthy to need a person to be able to feel like you could actually breath. Unheathly, criminal, toxic, but magical.

I slowly got out of bed, feeling the cold air rush to me as soon as I slipped out from under the covers. I was fully dressed, but it was a cold night. I grabbed the blanket off of the bed, wrapping it around myself. Zayn's scent lingering on the cover only made my need to be beside him grow stronger.

I walked out of his room, listening to how silent it was. The house was dark, but I didn't feel fear. It felt homey, safe, secure. It felt like I actually belonged and everything was balanced inside.

I made my way through the house, stopping infront of the door to the music room. I put my ear against the door, hearing nothing but silence. Still, I opened up the door, seeing how the moonlight streamed over the piano from the window, making it look even more grand. It was such a beautiful instrument, and I found it captivating.

I walked toward it, running my hands over the keys but not putting enough pressure to make any sounds. I felt a dull ache in my chest as I realized that Zayn has played every emotion he had through these keys. They told his story. The piano was a part of him. A part that contained black and white. The good and the bad. Something that created grey.

I looked away from the piano, still curious as to where Zayn went. So much happened tonight, and I was worried.

I left the room, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I entered the living room, feeling cold air bursting throughout the room. I looked over to see that the slide door was opened, leading to the garden.

I hesitantly made my way to it, shivering a bit as the cold air enveloped me. Still, I walked out into the darkness, being captivated by the vivid color of the flowers against the dark night sky.

I walked along the same path Zayn and I took last time I stayed over. My feet felt frozen as I walked along on the cold stepping stones, but I didn't mind. I was souley settles on finding Zayn.

I stopped when I saw him laying underneath the same tree we sat under, just staring up at the stars, holding a flower in his hand. He looked like a picture under the stars, the gentle hazed over light of the moon capturing his features in a soft glow. He looked like a dream.

I took another step forward, my foot creating the smallest noise against a bush, and he looked over at me in surprise. I watched his eyes soften as he saw me, and my heart was beating like I never knew it could. It was an accelerating feeling.

"Come here." He whispered, motioning for me to walk over as he tossed the flower to the side. I hesitantly stepped into the grass, feeling the dew drops dampen the bottoms of my feet, but I didn't mind as I finally made it to Zayn, getting down to my knees and looking down at him with uncertainty.

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, not wanting him to think that I saw him any differently. His story didn't change who I knew him to be. It only gave an explanation of all of his anger and denial. Not a valid point, but a reason.

"Yeah." He nodded lazily. "Yeah, I'm okay." He said, sifting onto his side and pulling me down gently, fixing the blanket so that it was laying over both of us. He wrapped his arms around me, and I felt warmer than the blanket could ever make me. Enveloped in Zayn's scent just gave me the perfect sense of comfort.

"Why are you out here, princess? It's too cold for you." He questioned, running his hands through my hair as he pressed a light butterfly kiss my cheek. I marveled at the affection.

"I was worried when I saw you weren't in bed." I confessed, hearing him hum in response but not giving a reply. It was quiet, and I found sleep reaching out to me again, but I didn't want to fall back into its clutches yet. I didn't want to miss this moment of closeness.

"It doesn't change how I see you." I whispered out, hiding my face in the crook of Zayn's neck, feeling complete safety and warmth. "Your past. It's only a part of your story. It doesn't change the fact that I still feel this way about you." I confessed.

"How do you feel about me?" Zayn asked, and I didn't miss the hint of hope in his voice. I thought about his answer to my earlier question. He's been in love. In love with who?

"Um... I... I feel safe with you. Like nothing can hurt me." I began, feeling Zayn's arms tighten around me as he pulled back to look me in the eyes.

"I would never let anyone hurt you, princess. Not when I'm around." He promised, his fingers tracing over the still fading bruise on my face, his eyes full of regret that I was ever hurt. But it wasn't his fault.

I leaned my face into his hand as I nodded. "I know." I admitted. "I know you wouldn't." I closed my eyes as our lips met in a soft kiss. Zayn pulled away with a small smile, and I hid my face again, smiling against his neck as I felt him laugh aloud. It was a burst of joy that bubbled up inside of both of us, and it felt amazing.

"I feel happy... around you." I declared, not being able to stop smiling. It just felt so surreal to actually feel happy. I haven't felt it in so long, but Zayn manages to waltz into my life and make me feel the need to smile again.

"I want you to be happy. Always. I always want to see that beautiful smile. To hear your lovely laugh." He said, and I nodded, feeling my cheeks heat up at the compliments. It wasn't something I was use to.

"And I feel... this ache deep in my chest, but... but it's not pain. It's... it's a good ache. An ache that makes me want more." I said, doing my best to describe the feeling. How do you describe an emotion when you've never felt it before? When you have no idea what to call it?

"I feel it, too." He said, taking my hand in his and placing it over his chest. "It's an ache right in my heart. And... I think it's the strongest emotion I've ever felt." He said, looking me in the eyes, and I begin to panic as I felt the serious and tense turn in the conversation. "And I think I know what it is." He announced, and I quickly shook my head, feeling tears building in my eyes. "Liam, I think I'm-"

"Please stop." I begged, cutting off his words. I didn't want to hear the words. I didn't want to believe it. Fear washed over me at the thought of those words leaving Zayn's lips, and I wanted to break out of his hold, my head telling me to pull away, but my heart only wanted to push closer.

"Liam... I want you happy." He reiterated, and I quickly answered.

"I am." I said, wanting to change the course of the conversation. "I am happy. I'm happy when I'm with you."

"But you're also hurting." He said, forcing me to look him in the eyes, and I saw the pain they held, heard it in his voice. Guilt errupted within me because I was hurting him. I was causing him pain now.

"Liam, you're hurting, and you won't tell anyone about it. Do you understand how worried I get everytime you go home? Do you understand how much I hate keeping this secret for you? I want to hurt your dad, and I want to protect you, but you won't let me! And I don't know what to do about it." He said, getting all worked up, and I stayed silent, avoiding his eyes and curling in on myself. I was ashamed of myself, ashamed of everything.

I stayed silent, tears spilling out of my eyes. He was disappointed in me, and I was disappointed in myself as well. I moved to pull away, too pull out of Zayn's hold in hopes of lessening the pain, but he held on to me, sighing as he pulled me close and rested his hand back on my cheek, kissing my forehead gently.

"I'm sorry." He whispered out. "I'm sorry, princess." He said, holding me desperately close, and I knew he was afraid I would leave. But I was afraid as well.

"You said you wouldn't tell." I whimpered out as he wiped tears from my eyes. "You promised not to." I reminded, hoping he would keep his promise. There was so much to ruin. I didn't want to ruin anything.

"I... I won't." He decided hesitantly. "I won't, princess. Don't cry." He begged, kissing away any tears that managed to drip down my cheeks, and I found the action adorable and heartwarming, reminding me of the statement Zayn almost confessed earlier.

"This is dangerous." I stated, looking him in the eyes. "All we do is hurt each other." I pointed out, seeing worry cross Zayn's features, but I leaned up, rubbing our noses together as I said "but I don't want it to end."

"It won't. Not with the way I feel about you." He promised, and I didn't even have time to respond before his lips were on mine again, filling me with so much life. Filling me with want and need.

I felt that same heat building up in my lower stomach as Zayn shifted us, hovering over me as our lips moved in sync, more pressure being added by the constant need to feel Zayn, taste Zayn, to breath in his scent.

Our lips followed a familiar pattern, the sound of lips smacking being replaced by heavy breathing as we pulled away a bit, and I looked up at Zayn. "How do you feel about me?" I managed to ask, hoping he would only describe it.

"I feel... like you're the other half of me." He began, pressing another small kiss to my lips. "I feel like my emotions play off of yours. I always want you to smile, never frown." He said, smiling slightly as he looked down at me.

"I always want to be near you, to protect you, to kiss you." He said, leaning down again and trailing kisses along my neck, making my stomach burst with butterflies and my eyes to flutter shut at the action, letting out a small gasp of pleasure.

"Can't tell you how many times I've thought of having you underneath me... even before we got close." He explained in a careful tone, and I opened my eyes in shock, seeing the obvious lust in his eyes, but I knew he would hold back. Zayn was perfect in that way. Respectful of taking things at my pace, and I sometimes felt bad for it.

"You... you want to...?" I trailed off, leaving the rest of the questioning lingering in the air, but Zayn only sighed as he nodded, kissing my forehead affectionately. And I couldn't believe someone as beautiful as he was wanted me in that way; in more ways than one.

I stayed silent, not knowing what to say or do. Zayn made my brain hazy, and it seemed as if I was always speechless around him, always thoughtless because I actually let go. I allowed my emotions to control me, not my mind.

"I was out here thinking of my mum." He confessed, breaking the silence once again, and I was thankful for another topic change. "She loved the stars. Said that every single one was a wish, and that I only had to strive far enough to reach them." He said with a smile, laying on his back beside me again, looking up at the nignt sky.

"She said that many of us were stars. We were all envious of the moon's beauty, but little did we know, we could shine brighter. She said... she said I was her wish. That she made a wish on a falling star. I was her falling star, because the stars throw out those who are too beautiful to compete with since they cannot overthrow the moon." He said, shaking his head and turning to look at me. "You're my falling star, princess." He said.

I was still speechless, staring at Zayn in awe and wondering how we got here. How were we lucky enough to get here? To this place that many people strive and long to be at? And how did I get so lucky as to have someone as beautiful inside and out as Zayn?

I looked down to where Zayn's arm was still around my waist, and I felt guilty for ever thinking he was an evil person. It felt like he kept giving, and I was only taking.

"Remember when I missed school in fifth grade?" I asked, watching as Zayn's face fell, remembering the week I was referring to, and how I already confessed to not being sick. He nodded, and I continued.

"On the Sunday before school, my dad took me down to our basement. I remember feeling how cold it was, how empty and dark it was, and I remember my dad saying that my mum didn't want me down there. He said it would be our secret, and that's where it started. It was so much pain the first time. I remember losing my breath after every kick to my stomach." I stated, never looking up at Zayn. I was too afraid to. "And that's still where it happens. The basement. It became a hell right underneath my feet."

I finished speaking, and it was quiet again. I felt anxiety begin to build within me at the thought that I might have just ruined things. Was the confession too much? Was he angry at me for hiding that little fact? I was about to panic and apologize for revealing that, but then Zayn turned sideways, looking at me and beginning to speak.

"Liam, you don't deserve that. It's been going on for what? Eight or seven years?" He asked, seeming pained by the thought. "You don't deserve that. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to feel... whatever you want to call this. Us. You deserve to feel it all of the time. And I should be doing something to protect you." He said, his hand finding my own and squeezing it.

"It's not your responsibility." I whispered, not wanting Zayn to feel bad. He looked down, not believing my words, but it was true. It's my responsibility, but I was so afraid of it.

I pressed my forhead to his, prompting him to pick up his own and look at me. "I'm okay." I said, offering a small smile as I lifted up our hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, seeing the way his eyes filled with something more than adoration. Something that terrified me but made me long for it to be true at the same time.

"I'm here. I'm alive. I'm okay." I promised. He smiled back at me, and I knew that none of the stars could compare.

I sighed as Zayn pulled me close before pressing his lips to mine, letting me know that we were okay, this was okay. We chose to live in the moment, not worry and fret about what was to come. Because we deserved that. We deserved the bit of happiness that we felt around each other.

"We should go inside. I don't want you getting sick." He said as soon as our lips parted, and I only began to register the fact that we were laying on dew drops in the cold night air. I barely began to shiver after the reminder about how cold it was. And I was appalled that I could forget so easily.

We both stood up, and Zayn wrapped the blanket around my shoulders again, pressing a kiss to my forehead, but it still wasn't as warm as being enveloped in his arms. I followed him inside, reaching out for his hand after he closed the slide door, missing the contact we previously had.

He smiled as he took my hand, leading us back to his room. He shut the door behind us and we both laid down in bed, putting the covers over us again, but I refused to let go of Zayn's hand as he tried to pull it away. He looked at me with a smile before pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. He moved to kiss my forehead, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips as he kissed my nose as well, sending little butterflies through me.

His lips finally met mine, and I instantly relaxed, feeling as if this kiss was a promise. A promise for what?

"You're beautiful." Zayn whispered as he pulled away a bit, the ghost of his lips still on mine as my mind was in a hazy tunnel. And I surged forward, kissing him again as I felt wamrth begin to build again. A different sort of warmth.

Zayn's other hand moved up to my neck, holding onto the side of it as he pulled me in deeper, kissing me as if his life depended on it, and I felt like mine did in that moment. All I was breathing in was Zayn, Zayn, Zayn.

I let out a low whine as I felt myself slowly growing stiff in my jeans, and embarrassment immediately pooled within me. How could I allow myself to get so worked up when Zayn seemed so calm?

I pulled out of the kiss, hiding my face in the crook of Zayn's neck, feeling my cheeks heating up in pure humiliation. I was embarrassed with the way my body reacted to his touch, but I revelled in it at the same time.

"It's okay." Zayn said, probably feeling the awkward protrusion against his thigh, and I wanted to cry in distress.

"It's not." I whispered out, not wanting to speak any louder in fear of losing my words to emotions. "I've never... experienced this." I said. I've never done anything remotely close to this, and I've never touched myself. It was hard to think about a means for pleasure when all you felt was pain and some days you were too bruised to even function.

"It's perfectly normal." He said, lifting my head up so I could look him in the eyes. "Trust me, princess. You're not the only one guilty here." He confessed, and I was in shock as I timidly asked my next question.

"You mean... you're, um...?" I trailed off, not really knowing what to say.

He nodded and said "Yeah. So we should probably stop now."

I nodded, a part of me thankful for the respect Zayn had for me, but another part left wondering what it felt like to have that kind of pleasure. What was I missing out on? What did normal people experience?

"How does it feel?" I questioned after working up the courage to ask. "How does that pleasure feel?" I reiterated.

"Not as good as just being near you." He said, resting his head back on his pillow as he looked at me. "But it's good. Amazing even." He added.

"Have you ever... done it... with anyone else?" I asked, seeing him nod in regret. I felt a small ache in my heart as I averted my eyes from his. I didn't know that the confession would hurt so much.

"It didn't mean anything. It was a girl, and I... I wasn't into it, but I was doing my best to convince myself I was straight. It ended up being a regret." He admitted, and I nodded in understanding. "It didn't even give me half the pleasure just being near you gives me."

I looked back up at him, seeing sincerity in his eyes, and the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. "Can you show me?" I asked, freezing in shock and fear as I registered my own words.

"I- I mean... I don't want to... I'm not ready for- I just thought that we could- I mean- I just-" I was cut off from my rambling as Zayn pressed his lips to mine, and I relaxed a bit, feeling how careful and caring the kiss was.

He pulled back, leaning his forehead against mine and speaking softly. "Liam, if you want to try something, I... I'd be more than honored to be the one you tried it with, but nobody is pushing you to do anything." He said, and I nodded.

"I know. I just... I want to try something, but I... I don't know what to do, and I don't know how." I confessed, feeling smaller and even more insecure than ever before.

"It's okay. Here." He said, gently turning us so that I was on my back and he was hovering above me. "Just tell me if it's okay or if it's too much and you want to stop. Because I will stop. Okay, princess?" He questioned, making sure I understood, and I felt so anxious for what as to come, but I nodded nonetheless.

Zayn slotted his thigh between my legs before thrusting up against me, a tingling, warm sensation shooting throughout my body as a moan leaked from my lips at the rough contact on my member. My fingers quickly gripped Zayn's arm, dull nails digging into his skin due to the mass amount of pleasure.

"Is this o-okay?" He asked, and I nodded as I bit my lips to stop another moan from slipping out as he repeated the action. I felt myself growing hotter as I realized Zayn's own member was getting the same friction from my thigh.

"Hot." I mumbled out. "It's hot." I said, amd I shivered as Zayn's hands slowly lifted up my shirt, looking me in the eyes to see if the action was okay, and I nodded. I watched in anticipation as he shedded his own shirt shoon after, revealing the perfectly sculpted tan skin underneath.

"You're absolutely beautiful." He complimented before pressing a kiss to his lips, and I moaned into his mouth as he thrusted down again, hearing him let out a low groan at the sound, and it was only then that I realized how his fists were clenching tightly on the sheets to my sides, his eyes full of lust and desire, but something much deeper as well, as he looked down at me.

"You have no idea how many times I've dreamt of this. Of hearing you moan because of me." He confessed, his intense stare becoming too much as he thrusted against me again. "It's even prettier in real life, princess." He whispered, and I couldn't help but let out a small whine at the confession.

"C-can we... pants." I panted out, feeling so much heat build up inside of me and outside as well. I felt like my head was spinning. I didn't know which way was up and which way was down. All I could focus on what Zayn. Zayn's voice, Zayn's face, and Zayn's touch.

He nodded, slowly moving the zipper down the front of my jeans, and I felt him freeze, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes before popping open my button and pulling the pants down my legs. I gasped in surprise as he pressed a kiss to my thigh, right underneath the end of my boxers. Even more blood rushed down South, and I was longing for his touch again.

"Z-Zayn!" I panted out, feeling my breath escape me as he trailed kisses up my thigh, nosing underneath my boxers all the way to where my v-line began, and I let out a loud moan, too loud for his aunt being in the same house.

Still, Zayn looked up at me with hungry eyes as he whispered "Fuck, you're lovely." He moved back up to me, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, making me whine as he thrusted down again, a weird feeling beginning to build in my lower stomach.

"Z-Zayn, I... shit, I need-" I whimpered out, my words cutting off as I tugged at my own hair before meeting Zayn's thrust half-way, the new and intense pleasure causing a cry to escape my lips as I came in my boxers, feeling the wet and warm substance stain all over them, and Zayn stopped thrusting, shutting his eyes as he breathed heavily through his nose, calming himself down, and I marveled at his self-control.

He leaned down, pressing another kiss to my lips as I attempted to catch my breath, feeling light-headed and bursting with a spark of adrenaline.

"I'll be back." He said, moving to climb off of the bed, but I grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You're not going to?" I asked, referring to his obvious hard-on that was still in his jeans, and I only realized he was still wearing his jeans.

"No. This was enough." He said with kind eyes, pressing another soft kiss to my lips before climbing off of the bed and leaving to the restroom. I heard the sink turn on before he returned with a wash cloth, handing it to me, and I knew what it was for.

"I'll get you some more boxers." He informed, turned away to his dresser, and I shyly shed my boxers off, cleaning myself with the wash cloth before wrapping the blanket around my waist and waiting for Zayn to come back.

He turned back to me, smiling at me action before handing my the boxers. "You can change in here. Do you want sweats or anything?" He asked, and I shook my head, too busy replaying what just occured to care.

I slipped the boxers on as Zayn took sweats into the restroom to change in there. I laid back under the covers after I was done, thinking about how Zayn only gave again. He never took. He didn't even cum.

What did he mean this was enough?

I felt Zayn slide in beside me a few moments later, and I smiled as he wrapped an arm around me, pressing another light kiss to my forehead. "Thank you. That was amazing." He said, and I found it ironic he was thanking me.

"I think I should be thanking you." I smiled up at him, feeling light-hearted in the moment, but also shy and awkward. I've never acted out in that way. It was all so new. Why with Zayn? Why did I trust him so much to let go of myself?

"Is it always that... intense?" I asked, not knowing the word to define it. There was something there. A spark. But I didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

"No." He answered immediately. "Only with you. Everything is that good with you. All the time. Even the pain." He announced, and I was left silent again, all words escaping my mind.

"You're my lucky star, princess." He said, pulling me close and closing his eyes as I did the same, feeling exhaustion take over me. He was my star as well.

And maybe it was luck, or maybe it was destiny that brought us together. Whatever it was, I was thankful for it.

I was thankful for the beautiful knight named Zayn Malik.


	30. Yours

I woke up in Zayn's arms, feeling so warm against his chest and wrapped in his arms. Memories of the night we shared played like a movie scene in my mind, and I suddenly felt shy. Embarrassed by my somewhat animalistic need of pleasure. By how I allowed my body to control me in an obscene way. But it was still beautiful nonetheless.

I pressed a small kiss to his chest, smiling at the way I felt his heartbeat pick up for that split second. I looked over at the clock, seeing that we had to get up for school, and I could admit that school felt like the worst idea at the moment. I'd rather just stay laying around all day with Zayn, but I knew that wasn't an option. Besides, it was a Friday.

"Zayn." I whispered, shaking him slightly to attempt to wake him up. It was a new experience, and I couldn't help but see it happening again and again in the future. It was strangely something I looked forward to experiencing again.

"Zayn, we have school." I announced, a bit louder, and he rolled onto his side, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck, and I felt him press a kiss to my shoulder with a small, sleepy smile on his face. It was an action that made me forget to breath for a moment.

"Can we just lay here?" He mumbled out, and it was tempting. It wasn't hard to accept the offer, but it wasn't like we could just continue skipping school without consequences.

"I wish." I confessed, running my fingers through his hair, and I felt so full and happy and calm as his thumb traced circles against my hip, the touch being smooth and so gentle. And I remembered how caring and understanding he was last night, making it so easy for me.

Still, the embarrassment for how I must have looked came clawing its way through, and I just wanted to hide away, but those thoughts were soon replaced as Zayn's lips worked up the expanse of my neck, pressing small and fleeting kisses to my jaw. They didn't have a sexual intent, and I found myself relieved to know he wasn't just in this for sex. Whatever this was, he was in it for me.

"I guess we can get up." He said, looking me in the eyes now, and I would never get over the amount of affection they always held for me. It was hard to believe someone could feel this way about me.

He got out of bed, and I was still hypnotized by how beautiful his bare skin was. His naturally tanned skin was beautiful, and I felt self-conscious as I climbed out of bed, feeling even more so as I realized I was in my boxers while Zayn was in sweats.

I stood there, realizing I didn't have any clothes here. I could wear my same outfit and risk further comments about me, or I could run home to change and barely make it to school on time if I run there as well.

I was pulled out of my thoughts as Zayn walked over to me, and I barely noticed the way his eyes scanned my body, looking at me as if I was the best thing in the world, and that was intimidating. He cupped my cheek in his hand, offering a soft smile as he whispered "You're beautiful, princess." He pressed a kiss to my lips, and the tunnel I've already begun digging for myself just kept getting deeper. There was no way out, but I didn't want to leave in the first place.

"I'm not." I replied, not being able to believe the compliment. "You are. It's one of the many reasons so many people admire you." I confessed, and it was true. I constantly heard people mention how good-looking Zayn was, how beautiful he was, how absolutely flawless he was. But none of them knew he was beautiful on the inside as well.

"I don't care about them." I said, trailing his fingers down my spine, spending a shiver throughout my body. Zayn's eyes shifting, the pure admiration still there, but they held a deep intensity as well.

"They're all superficial. They all play a part in the show I call my life." He said, and I understood what he was saying, but it was unusual to think about. Why did he continue to play a part?

"But this." He said, running his thumb against my bottom lip, and I closes my eyes at the touch, opening them soon after to see a small smile on his face. Dazzling. "You. This is real. A behind the scenes that nobody will ever get to see." He said, and the thought made my heart drop. That I would be the secret untold.

The knowledge physically hurt. I felt my heart clench in pain, a crippling pain that made it so hard to even speak. I dropped my eyes from Zayn's, deciding that it was probably time for me to go.

"I have to go home." I said softly, pushing through the world of hurt I just tumbled into. "I have to go change." I reiterated, breaking out of Zayn's hold and finding my discarded clothes on the floor. And I felt ashamed.

Ashamed that I allowed that moment of intimacy to happen last night without thinking of what would happen today. How he would hide me, push me away, pretend I wasn't important. And I hated how I was questioning everything as my heart felt crushed and broken; my eyes stinging with the need to cry.

I pulled my clothes on, noticing that Zayn was still standing where I left him, looking down at his hand as if he expected me to still be there underneath his touch. I slipped my shoes on, and it was them that he turned to me, a sad smile on his lips that hurt more than his words.

"I didn't mean it that way, Liam." He said, walking to me and resting our foreheads together. It was a movement that always made me weak; always made me cave. "I didn't mean that you're my shameful secret. You're not." He said, but I looked down at the floor, looking down at our feet, his bare and mine covered by my shoes.

"Princess, please look at me." He begged, and the pain in his voice was all it took to make me follow through with the request. His eyes held such deep emotions, and the fear of him, his words, how he made me feel, instantly tugged at my chest.

"I'm not ashamed of you." He stated. "You are absolutely beautiful in every single way. And you're everything to me. Even without saying, I think you know how I feel about you." He said softly, and I shook my head, not wanting to think of the possibility.

"Stop." I requested, seeing him let out a small sigh as he held my face in his hands, piercing brown eyes staring into my own.

"I'm only ashamed of myself. Of who I am, what I've done, and what I hide from everyone. Everytime I touch you, I question if this should feel so right when all I've been told is that it's wrong. Everytime I kiss you, I think about the possibility of sinning. But I need to feel this. Hearing that it's wrong, hearing that from everyone...." He trailed off, and I leaned into his touch as I realized how scarring it would be for him.

"Would remind you of your dad. Of what he did." I finished, and he nodded, leaning in closer, and I pressed my lips to his, enjoying the soft warmth of them against my own. I ran my fingers through his hair, trying to calm the wheels that were constantly turning in his mind.

He wasn't ready to tell people, and I wouldn't push him. I would never force anyone to come out. It was a big deal. Zayn should be comfortable with himself before he becomes comfortable with others knowing as well. I knew that, but it still hurt a bit.

"You don't have to go. I think I have something that would fit you." He said, and I was still lost in the feel of his lips, so I only nodded, only realizing what he said as he walked to his closet, digging through it before he finally pulled out an outfit: a plain white t-shirt and black jeans- something I haven't seen Zayn wear in a while. It was always black, graphic t's with comic book-like designs, or some old school musician or band he enjoyed topped with his leather jacket. Never this.

He handed them over to me, and I bit back the comment I wanted to make about not wanting to wear the same boxers. I found it awkward to ask for another pair, so I kept my mouth shut and accepting the clothing that only had a faint hold of Zayn's smell. The scent was an older scent, as if it's been living in the closet for years. And it probably has.

I took off the clothes I was wearing as Zayn looked through the closet for an outfit of his own. By the time he was finished, I already slipped on the clothes he gave me, and he turned to me with a smile. "You can use the restroom. There's extra toothbrushes in the drawer under the sink. My aunt's crazy about hygiene." He said, and I nodded, walking to the restroom.

I closed the door as I got in, letting everything replay through my mind. Yesterday seemed like a dream, too good to be true, yet so painful that it was burned inside of me. Zayn confessed his past, and I let myself go long enough to realize that this feeling I had for Zayn was something more than just a crush or admiration or pure affection. It was something that made my want to shut my eyes and never open them again in hopes it'd disappear. But if it disappeared, I'd be broken.

I looked in the mirror, wanting to cry out of pure frustration. I hated the way I locked away my feelings, doing my best to be numb, to be something I wasn't. I felt too much. And I hated that about myself. I couldn't stop feeling what I wanted to stop feeling. This need to be by Zayn through everything.

I jumped as I heard the door open, and Zayn walked inside. He stared at me with almost knowing eyes, but I was relieved when he didn't bring anything up. "Couldn't find the toothbrushes?" He asked, and I shook my head, just going along with it. Zayn was a good actor, and very good at writing the script as well.

He dug around in the drawer before pulling out a spare toothbrush and handing it over to me, passing along toothpaste as well.

I accepted the items, getting the toothpaste on the brush after wetting it and passing it over to Zayn so he could do the same. We silently brushed out teeth, and I couldn't help but feel that this was safety. This was natural. Normal. The type of normal that other people experience. I didn't know how to feel about it, but it made my heart rush.

And I felt on top of the world knowing I got to see this side of Zayn. The side he locks away.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"What are you writing?" I heard Zayn ask, and I looked up at him, where he sat perched on the piano bench, not playing a thing as his full attention was on me. I looked back at my notebook, seeing the lyrics I've written down. To be honest, every song I've written lately has been about Zayn. The way I'm so confused and afraid of my feelings.

"Um, lyrics. More of just scribbling words down to get ideas." I said, feeling pressured and embarrassed of what I've written down. It would be so obvious who it was about if I showed him.

"Can I see?" He asked, and I sat in silence, not knowing if I should show him. Then again, he's shown me his deepest feelings. Confessions of pain and angst and beauty. All of it. "Maybe I could help you add notes to it." He said, referring to the piano, and I nodded, standing up and sitting on the space he made beside him on the bench.

"It's um... it's not finished. And it's not my best work. Sorry if it's crappy or-" I was cut off as Zayn shook his head, reading over the words I've written and looking back up at me.

"It's amazing. It's everything music should be. Open, vulnerable, able to connect with people." He said, and I watched as he continued reading, a soft smile growing on his face as it clicked for him what the song was about.

"Falling stars." He stated, looking up at me with awe written all over his face, and I nodded, looking down at the black and white keys of the piano. And it made me wonder why emotions and life choices couldn't be black and white. Simple. Easy. But no, it was all a blend of confusing grey.

"I hope that's okay that I used that. I know it was personal." I said, not being able to shake away the memory of Zayn and I under the stars, having him tell me I was his falling star. Something so beautiful that it filled others with envy. I didn't see it, but it meant the world that Zayn did.

"I shared it with you because I trust you, princess." He admitted. "It's your to use now. Everything I give you is yours to use. Everything I have is yours. And it's intimidating that you have so much control over me, but I enjoy the fact, also." He said, looking me right in the eyes, and I has to fight the urge to press my lips to his. He was just beautifully hypnotizing.

"I wouldn't take advantage of any of it." I confessed. I didn't want to hurt Zayn. I never wanted that. I wanted to be by him, be the reason he smiled just as he was mine, and I wanted to be wrapped in his arms forever. I wanted to be his, his falling star, his princess, just his.

"I know you wouldn't." He said, a sad smile overtaking his features. "And sometimes we don't mean to, but we hurt each other. Because we are afraid of having so much control over someone that we're careful. Too careful." He said, and I took in a sharp intake of breath as his fingers brushed against my hand on the piano bench, gently there before it disappeared, leaving a bit of panic within me at the loss of contact.

"You... you have every part of me, too." I admitted, feeling so small and vulnerable as I said the words softly, afraid it would be used against me. "And I don't know if I like it or not because it means I'd be even more broken if it was all taken away." I said.

We stared at each other intently, and I jumped when the bell rang, seeing everyone pack up and file out of the classroom on their way to lunch. As soon as the room was empty, I moved to grab my notebook and follow the crowds of hungry students to the lunch room, even if I didn't feel the need to eat.

I stood up and stopped as Zayn stood as well, one hand locked around my wrist as his other cupped my cheek, smiling at me as he said "I never want to break you. I will cherish every part of you, princess."

I closed my eyes as he placed a peck on my lips and then motioned for me to follow him out and to the lunch room. I tailed right beside him, feeling an urge to reach out for his hand, but I fought it away. Nobody could know that I was wrapped up around his finger. That the boy that use to bruise me and and use hard grips was now the boy who would kiss me and touch me softly, as if I was fragile china. It amazed me how different Zayn was around me whenever we were alone.

We sat at the lunch table with Louis, and I made a point of eating the fruit off of my tray, showing Zayn that I was doing my best to hold up my end of our deal. And I knew he was holding up his end as well.

"Liam?" Louis called my name, and I looked up at him, seeing him looking at me in suspicion. "Where did you get those clothes?" He asked. "I feel like I've ssen that outfit before."

I felt panic overwhelm me as I searched for an answer as to why the shirt was a bit longer than my usual ones, and why the pants had to be slightly rolled up. Nobody else noticed, but Louis always seemed to notice things I didn't want him to.

"They're just hand-me-downs. From... from my dad." I said, hating the lie. My dad would never give me anything he owned. He never cared about me that way. But it was okay when Louis nodded, still looking a bit unsure but letting it slide as he continued to speak.

"So, since tomorrow is Saturday, I was thinking we could all hang out. Harry said we could go to his house and play video games and such. Or my house if you'd all like. Or even Niall's." He announced, and Zayn tensed up at the mention of the boy.

"He's really looking forward to see our precious Liam here, Z." Louis said, nudging Zayn's shoulder in an attempt to tease me. Little did he know, be was only succeeding in creating an angry Zayn.

"My house." Zayn announced, making the decision for us. "I'd love to meet them both."

Louis nodded, and I saw Zayn shake his head in frustration. He didn't speak much for the rest of lunch, and it worried me a little. That is until I was being pushed into a bathroom again right after lunch was over, Zayn's lips meeting mine.

"You're mine." He said in a demanding and possessive tone, and I couldn't reply, not with how his lips felt as they trailed down my neck. "I wish I could mark you. Show everyone who you belong to." He said, and this was new for us. This was something we haven't experienced.

"M-my dad." I stuttered out, my fingers digging into his biceps at the feeling of his teeth scrapping along the sensitive skin of my neck. My dad would definitely see any marks he planned to make.

"I know, princess." He said, his actions suddenly calming down as he looked at me with affection. "You're mine. Please tell me that." He begged, a type of fear filling his eyes, and I nodded, pecking his lips again.

"Of course. Your falling star. Your princess." I said, sighing as Zayn kissed me again before resting our foreheads together.

"My princess." He concluded, running his fingers through me hair, and I took a deep breath, putting on a brave face as I let the words flow out in a whisper.

"I'm your princess. And you're my knight."


	31. Hurt

"Whose clothes are those?" I heard as soon as I walked into the house, and I looked over to see my dad on the couch, his eyes still trained on the TV as he spoke to me. "Because they sure as hell aren't yours." He said, standing up as he flicked the TV off, and I froze in my spot as he looked at me. "Unless you somehow slipped by your mum and I coming home this morning."

I lowered my eyes to the floor, feeling the familiar aching of my body begin to build, even though he hasn't hit me yet. I was just use to it. I knew what to expect before it even came. It's all I've known for years, and I was still afraid of it.

"Are you going to answer me or just stand there like the fucking idiot you are?" My dad sneered, moving toward me, and I stepped away, attempting to go to my room, but he caught my arm, gripping it so tightly I let out a yelp.

"Whose are they? One of the disgusting fags you let fuck you?" He asked, his tone full of hatred. His grip on my arm hurt to the point that bruises were sure to form, and I didn't know if it was a bad thing that the only thing I thought about was how to hide them.

"N-no, I just-" I began, but his hand came up to grab my cheeks harshly, stopping me from talking.

"I don't want to hear your lies. Your mum sure as hell didn't buy them, and you can't say you got them anywhere else but from some asshole little shit who decided you were good enough for a lay." He spat out, and it made me rethink the intimate moment Zayn and I had last night. Maybe that was his goal.

But no. Zayn wouldn't have been so gentle. He wouldn't have settled for the minimum that I offered. He wouldn't have denied himself the ultimate pleasure that I got to receive. He wouldn't have spoken to me so tenderly. He wouldn't have shared such an intimate story if that was his only goal.

"Take them off." He said as he stepped back, and I was frozen in shock and confusion. "I will not allow you to wear those fucking clothes in my house! Take. Them. Off.... Now!" He roared, pushing me back against the wall.

"B-but d-dad-"

"You're not my son!" He spat, and I think a part of me knew that. A part of me knew that I was nothing to him anymore, but the other part - the part that remembered when my dad would show pride and joy whenever I accomplished a small task - that part missed the man I called my father.

I stood still, completely still. Not making a move to take the clothes off at all, and my dad's face filled with rage at my disobedience. I felt fear creep up on me as he dug into his pocket, and I felt the stiff scabbing of the burn marks on my neck. But what he pulled out wasn't a lighter, but a pocket knife.

I attempted to run away, but he caught me by the shoulder, fighting me back against the wall, and I continued to struggle until I felt cold metal against my kneck. I froze. Barely even breathing as I felt the blade resting on my throat, my dad's sinister smile matching his hateful eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you again. Take the damn clothes off. Or give me this satisfaction." He hissed, and I swallowed thickly, feeling the way he pressed the edge a bit deeper into my skin, not enough to cut, but enough to scrape and sting.

He stepped back as I moved to pull the shirt over my head, smirking in achievement. He held his hand out for the shirt, and I gave it over, feeling a part of me break with the action. He waited as I stepped out of my shoes and socks before I took the pants off as well, handing them over to him and shivering in fear as I stood in boxers alone.

He took the clothes, closing the pocket knife and looking back up at me. "I'm taking these and every single damn jacket you have in that room of yours." He said, stomping past me and heading over to my bedroom.

My heart sped up as I desperately followed him, not wanting every single bit of Zayn to disappear. I needed the little bit of protection that came with his scent to keep me sane.

My dad threw my bedroom door open, and I was thankful that Zayn wasn't at the window for once. I didn't want to imagine what would happen if he was. I didn't want to even think about the possibility, especially not with the knowledge of the pocket knife my dad had.

"I want every single one you have. Now." He ordered, and I scampered to the closet, feeling ultimately weak and exposed. I grabbed the jackets in there, handing them over to him with a heavy heart, and then he looked at my desk.

"Whose gloves?" He asked, looking at the pair of gloves Zayn bought me the first day we skipped class. He looked over at me, probably seeing the worried look on my face. He chuckled humorlessly before snatching them up and turning to me.

"Is this everything?" He asked, and I thought about the final jacket I had hidden under my pillows. I didn't want to give that up. "Did you not hear me? I said is this everything?" He reiterated, and I quickly nodded, feeling anxious at my lie.

"It better fucking be or you're going to wish you never lied." He threatened, looking at me with eyes that seemed to be searching my own, trying to find the lie in them. I felt like he knew, and I suppressed a shiver of fear.

"It is." I whispered, my throat feeling so dry as I spoke. I was doing my best not to cry as he nodded, glaring at me as he spoke.

"I'm burning all of this shit. If I see you wearing some other fag's clothes again, you'll both get something coming to you." He said, and I froze at the mention of Zayn getting hurt. I couldn't stand that fact, so I made the mistake of yelling out as he was about to leave.

"No!" I yelled, regretting it as soon as his head snapped back to me, eyes wide with rage at the fact that I shouted back. He shook his head with a smile before turning back to look at me.

"You know what, follow me." He said, though I didn't have a choice as he gripped my arm again, dragging me along as my heart raced against time.

We arrived in the restroom, my dad throwing the clothes in the bathtub before releasing me and going to the drawer, grabbing out a pack of matches that my mum liked to use to light candles when she needed to relax.

"Light it." He said, pushing it toward me, and I started to shake my head, but his cold stare stopped my. "Light the match, Liam. You'll only piss me off more."

I grabbed the box with shaky hands, opening it up and accidentally dropping it, spilling dozens of matches onto the tiled flooring. I heard my dad sigh in frustration as I reached down, picking up the matches as quickly as I could only to get them snatched away by my dad.

"You're such a fucking disappointment." He spat, lighting a match and throwing it onto the clothes. I watched, crouched onto the floor, as they burned. The fire spread quickly, engulfing everything in flames. I watched as all of the good in my life seemed to get destroyed.

"Basement. Now." My dad ordered, lifting me from the ground before tugging me along after him, but I wasn't focused on the fear of getting beaten senseless for once. All that was on my mind was the pule of burning clothes. It felt like a sign, and I didn't like the feeling.

I looked back one last time at the burning clothing, wondering it it was possible for the flame between Zayn and I to get too bright. To burn everything down, leaving it all in a black cloud of smoke.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Zayn, this is Niall." Louis said, gesturing over to the blond boy whose eyes wondered over to where I was sitting on the couch, a pleasant smile filling his lips, but I couldn't bring myself to smile. And, for once, I was glad not to be alone with Zayn, memories of yesterday playing over and over in my mind. The pocket knife against my neck, the burning clothes, the beatings in the basement. It was the first time my dad decided one beating wasn't enough.

Zayn only gave Niall a small nod, not spending too much time on him. He looked back over at me with a worried glance rather than listening to whatever Niall was saying. He's been trying to pry information out of me for a good fifteen minutes before Louis and the others showed up.

"And this is Harry." Louis said, a softer tone taking over his voice, and I saw Zayn smile. I found it amazing how happy he was for his best friend. It was obvious Louis and Harry were in love, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from their interlocked hands, longing for the same kind of display of affection.

"It's great to finally meet Louis' best friend. And thank you for inviting us all over." Harry said, smiling gratefully at Zayn who kindly said that it was no big deal before offering them all a seat.

"Zayn, I- oh!" I heard his aunt say as she walked into the room, looking around at all of us as she held on to her hair that she was currently styling into a bun. "I completely forgot you invited friends over today. I was just going to run to the store and buy some more paints, but I can stay if you all need anything." She offered, hearing everyone politely decline the offer as I stayed silent, feeling an ache not only in my body, but in my chest. Longing for someone like her in my life.

"Well, just want to say hello before I go." She said, smiling as she welcomed Louis into a hug. "Welcome back, trouble maker." She joked, making Louis laugh along, and her eyes lit up as she saw his hand connected to Harry's.

"Hello, sweetheart. I'm Colette, Zayn's aunt." She said, pulling Harry into a hug as well, and I wondered what it felt like to have that praise of acceptance for who you were without knowing the person. What did that kindness feel like?

She turned to Niall, cooing and commenting about how cute he was as she pulled him into a hug as well. Finally, she turned to me, and her voice lowered as she sat by me.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" She asked, and I couldn't stop the flinch of my hand when she tried to rest hers on mine. Seeing the confusion and worry in her eyes due to the action hurt, and I did my best to hold back tears.

"Yes." I replied, feeling everyone's eyes on me in the room, and I didn't like the attention. "I'm just not feeling my best." I lied, hoping a sickness would explain my distant mood. Truth was, my body was sore, and I was tired. I didn't want to be here, I didn't want to be at home, I didn't want to be anywhere.

"Do you want me to take you home?" She asked, and panic filled me inside, knowing that my parents were there. I didn't want to face either of them. But I quickly relaxed as she said "Or you're welcome to go lay down in my room or Zayn's room. I'm sure he won't mind." His aunt said, looking over at Zayn who shook his head, staring at me with curious eyes.

"Thank you." I offered, but I hesitated to get up, knowing that as soon as I moved pain would shoot through me. Just the walk here took twice as long as usual, and covering the damage with make-up was difficult, so difficult as every touch hurt.

"Maybe we should just post-pone this whole hanging out thing." Harry proposed, and I saw Niall's frown at Harry's words. It was a kind offer, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for ruining plans previously made. I should just suck it up and smile.

"I think that would be best." Coleen said sweetly. "When's the next time you will all be free? Maybe I can actually be a host next time." She joked, and I found a little joy in her words as she held my hand, letting me know she was there without any words.

"Niall and I have our showcase next week. It ends about nine or ten on Friday. Would that be okay?" Harry politely asked. Colette nodded before standing up and looking at me.

"Go on. Go lay down." She shooed kindly, and I slowly got up, trying not to flinch at the sudden stinging pain that seemed to spring from every joint. I finally stood up, doing my best to walk quickly to the room so nobody would notice the slight limp. I completely walked past her room, heading straight to Zayn's room, the place I felt completely safe.

I stumbled over to the closet, reaching for the first jacket I saw before pulling it on and going over to his bed. I laid under the covers, pulling the hood on and blocking out an ounce of cold air. And I relaxed, settling into the warm and comfortable sheets on Zayn's bed, captivated by his lingering scent all around me.

I heard the door open a few moments later, and I looked up to see Zayn standing there, a look of fondness and worry etched on his face. He shut the door behind him before sitting on the edge of the bed; so close yet so far.

"Can I see?" He asked, and I knew what he was referring to. The bruises. The marks. All made by the hands of my dad. But there were so many this time, hidden in plain sight, and I was afraid to reveal them, but this was Zayn. Zayn who trusted me enough to tell me about his childhood, a fact not even his best friend knew.

I nodded my head slowly. Before I could attempt to sit up, Zayn was hovering over me, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek before his hands found the end of my shirt, pulling it up slightly and stopping as he saw the first set of bruises on my lower stomach. Large, purple marks of several punches, the marks of the fists forming one huge mass of discoloration on my skin.

I winced as Zayn lightly brushed his fingers over the bruises, the pain still too fresh and the punches still to memorable. I saw his eyes close, obviously struggling with the marks on my body, and shame and guilt filled me.

"You don't deserve this, Liam. Not at all." He said, opening his eyes again and lifting my shirt up all the way, seeing the way my torso and chest was basically littered in bruises. It seemed as if most of my skin was one huge purple mark with variations of black and blue.

"Shit, princess." He breathed out, clenching his jaw as he looked at the damage. I didn't know if the damage was on my body or if the damage was me itself. Maybe I've been hurt so many times, it all combined into one.

"I can't stand seeing you this way." He admitted, resting his forehead against mine as he looked down at me, our eyes meeting as I did my best to hold back my tears. I was a disgusting disappointment, and I didn't mean to make Zayn upset.

"I-I'm sorry." I stuttered out in a whisper, not remembering the last time I ever stuttered in Zayn's presence. I did before. Before I realized I was helplessly falling for him.

"It's not your fault. Nothing's your fault." He said, holding my hand in his and pressing small kisses to each knuckle. He was being so sweet, so soft, so gentle. I felt tears spill free from my eyes as my heart seemed to ache terribly for the boy in front of me. Always wanting more.

"Don't cry, love. Please don't cry." He asked, moving to lay beside me. I just felt so ashamed, and I was sure he knew that as he changed the subject for me. "Have you eaten today?" He questioned in a whisper.

I nodded my head, feeling good that I didn't have to lie. Sure, it wasn't much. It was half a bowl of cereal, but it was more than I'd usually eat, and it felt worth it when I felt Zayn press a kiss to me head. "I'm proud of you, princess." He said, just laying beside me and playing with my hand in his.

We laid in silence, and I scooted closer to him, leaning my head against his shoulder, needing that contact to know he was here. He was real. This was real.

"What happened?" He asked softly, and I tensed up, not wanting to tell him. Not about the knife at least.

"He saw me wearing your clothes. And took them all away. The clothes, the jackets, the gloves, everything." I said, feeling Zayn turn to me and look me in the eyes.

"I can always buy you more. It's okay. I don't care how many jackets I have to buy you, as long as you're warm and taken care of." He said, and I shook my head, feeling so tired and helpless.

"It's not about the jackets, Zayn. It's not about the clothes that I can't wear. He said not to have anything left of you, not to even be around you." I said, feeling myself begin to shake in fear. "And he-he threatened you, and I- I can't let anything happen to you, I-"

"Liam, calm down." He soothed, and I knew I was being frantic, but I couldn't stand the thought of Zayn getting hurt because of me. It was a terrifying thought.

"Can you just... just hold me?" I asked, feeling so small and vulnerable, but I didn't care anymore. I was already in too deep that it would hurt regardless of how it ended. Whether Zayn was playing me or not, my heart would be broken either way. This was reckless behavior, but I didn't care in this moment.

"Of course, princess." He said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close, allowing me to nuzzle my face against his shoulder for warmth. And I noticed that his touch was light enough not to hurt my sore body, but strong enough to let me know he was there. "I'll always hold you. It's probably my favorite thing." He said, offering a stunning smile before I leaned up, connecting our lips together in such a tender kiss.

I felt all of my stress and hurt flood out of me as we kissed. Zayn leaned in closer, kissing me with determination but keeping it sweet. It took my breath away, making my head spin. We pulled away with the lack of oxygen

"But, seriously... I want you safe, Liam. I can't stand knowing that you could be getting hurt at any second of the day." He confessed. "It's not right, and it always scares me. To see the bruises... the actual damage... God, I wish I could take your place. I wish you'd let me tell someone." He said, and I quickly shook my head, only calming down when he kissed me again.

"I won't." He said with a heavy sigh. "I won't tell, princess, but I can't keep the secret forever." He said.

"Not forever." I assured, pressing a kiss to the area where his neck met his shirt collar. "Just not yet." I said, thinking that I would be free after graduation, hoping he wouldn't say a word.

"I won't. But, Liam, my mum died never knowing what I've been through, and I regret it every day. I regret making her think everything was alright. I was afraid, but after I told my aunt... it was easier." He said, and maybe it would be easier for him, but that's who his aunt was. She was kind and understanding. My mum would be nothing but broken.

"I don't think I'd ever want her to know." I whispered, hoping he wouldn't hear somehow, but of course he did.

"You know what I think?" He asked, and I only gave a small hum in reply. "I think... that you've gotten so use to someone telling you you're worthless that you believe it now. And you don't know what to do without hearing it because you've become so use to it. You've become use to the pain. And somehow, he's got you thinking you deserve it. And without it, you have nothing." He said, and I felt tears build as he spoke my reality, the things I always tried to push away.

"How do you-"

"Because I felt the same way with my dad. I must have done something to displease whatever ruler there is up there." He said sadly. "I was a sin. I believed it so long that it effected my ability to let anyone in, to accept my true feelings. It led me to hurting you due to my shame. Because I didn't know anything else, and the unknown- it's scary."

I let out a shaky breath, letting a few tears fall onto the fabric of Zayn's shirt. "The pain is all I know." I admitted.

"I know. But it doesn't have to be all you have. Because you have me, princess. And I want to make you as happy as you make me. My aunt was right. I haven't been happy in a long time, but you give me that." He said.

"You do make me happy." I confirmed, looking back up at him and seeing the smile on his lips. "But I'm afraid about what happens when all of your happiness is in one person. What if that person leaves? Then what?" I asked, looking him in the eyes with worry.

"I won't. You have all of me, remember? The only way I'd leave is if you tossed me aside, breaking me up from the inside out. I wouldn't leave because my heart has never pounded around anybody else like it does around you."

I kissed him again, feeling the way my heart seemed to slowly mend every time our lips met. It was like a thread was slowly mending it together, healing the bruises into something beautiful. And I knew I was in too deep.

"Z-Zayn?" I asked, getting his attention. I kept my eyes closed, knowing he probably opened his to look at me. "You said... you said you've been in love before." I reminded, feeling my throat go dry from fear. "Who? Who did you love?" I asked, opening my eyes and seeing how soft and full of adoration his were. So many emotions that it physically hurt me to look into his eyes.

It was silent as he lifted his hand to my cheek, his thumb lightly caressing my cheek bone, a slight bit of pain forming from a hidden bruise, and I remember his question. How often did I have bruises he didn't see? The answer was always. I always had them. Physical and mental.

"I can't tell you yet." He said, and my little bit of hope fell. Hope for what, I wasn't quite sure.

"Okay." I simply said, not knowing what else to say, but it made Zayn smile before he pressed his lips to mine again, an additive that made my head spin and heart beat like a drum.

"You're beautiful, princess. And I care about you... so much." He declared, kissing my forehead before we settled into a comfortable silent.

And, yeah, this was beautiful.


	32. Inclination

It was Sunday, and I was a bit less sore. I was glad when I woke up to the news that my dad had to go into work today. I wasn't looking forward to seeing him at all.

    I made my way to the store, my mum telling me that she needed more bread and milk. It was still quite early, so I enjoyed the silence on the streets, only a few cars driving by, but I was left walking through cold air without a jacket, fearing ever removing the one from under my pillow. My mum didn't seem to notice.

    I walked into the store, getting that casual customer greeting as I walked straight to the bread aisle. I grabbed the bread off of the shelf before moving to the milk section. Just as I was about to grab the milk and go, I heard my name being called.

    "Hey, Liam! How are you? Are you feeling any better?" I heard Harry ask, and I turned to him, seeing him standing there with a broom in his hand, pausing from cleaning the floors. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes held concern.

    "Oh, yeah, I'm feeling better. I guess it was just a stomach bug or something." I mumbled off near the end, grabbing the milk and feeling the coldness underneath my fingertips.

     "Glad to hear it." He said, pausing as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it. "Hey, maybe we can hang out today. Just you and me. Louis told me you write songs, and I... well, I could use some advice on my piece for the showcase." He said, but I could tell it's not what he wanted to say. Still, the offer sounded nice.

    "Um, yeah. What time?" I asked, knowing that it'd probably be in the afternoon since he clearly just started working.

    "I get off at three. Maybe you can give me your address, or we could meet somewhere-" He offered, and the second option sounded much better than risking my dad coming home early.

     "At the park." I insisted. "We can meet there, and then go to your house." Harry gave me a confused look before offering a little laugh and nodding, the same old smile forming on his face.

    "Great. I'll be there." He chuckled, going back to sweeping, and I nodded, waving goodbye to him as I walked away. I managed to get through the whole check out process rather quickly, and I began my walk home, thinking about everything that has happened up until this point.

    The pain was still evident throughout my body, but I was an expert at hiding it. I still felt bad for ruining the plans we all made yesterday, but Zayn repeatedly told me not to worry about it, that I came first. I've never been first to someone. Not truly.

      I thought about the first time I spoke to Zayn without knowing it was him. He was just a person crying in a restroom stall, and I hate the sound of other people's sadness. I offered him comfort, not knowing what he was going through; now I knew.

     I can't imagine what it's like to struggle with your sexuality the way Zayn has. I just always knew I was gay. That doesn't make it easy, though, not exactly. Not when the whole world sees you as a mistake, an error in the gentic code. But Zayn... Zayn denied the fact, hurting himself in the struggle. He tried to change himself, going as far as sleeping with a girl, but you can't change what the heart wants.

     What did my heart want? I knew it ached and cried out in agony and longing at the very thought of Zayn; seeing him in the morning with his hair flat and soft, his eyes fogged over with sleep, yet holding an adoring smile on his lips. How careful he was with me, always holding me and touching me with different levels of softness. He was a feather duster, gently brushing past me to cleanse all of the dust away.

     But what did my heart want? What was this feeling that hurt so good? What was the sudden flutter of life within me whenever Zayn's lips were on mine? What was the hope inside of me that saw something other than pain around him? What did it all mean?

    I opened the door to my house, stepping inside and freezing as I heard my mum laughing loudly, sounding like she just heard the funniest thing ever. I was immediately confused, walking forward to see what was going on when I heard the voice that calmed all of my demons.

    "Yeah, it was terribly embarrassing. I never recovered from it. After that, I never tried to play a sport ever again." He concluded, my mum's laughter slowly dying down, and I stepped out, catching both of their attention from the dining room.

    "Oh, Liam, you're back. Thank you so much for getting these." My mum said, taking the grocery bag from my hand and moving to go to the kitchen. I was still frozen in my spot, immediate fear shooting through me.

    "Why are you here?" I asked, and I could tell it came out a bit rude sounding as Zayn's smile dropped and he shrugged.

    "Just... I just wanted to see you." He confessed, and I shook my head, turning away and going to my room. I shut the door, terrified of so many things. It wasn't safe for him here. What was he doing?

     I was pacing in my room for a few seconds before the door opened. I froze in my spot as Zayn walked in, a look of confusion on his face. "What's wrong?" He asked, shutting the door behind him.

    "Why are you here?" I asked, feeling so much anxiety at having him here. "Zayn, it's not safe for you to just be here. What if my dad came back? What if- what if something happened to you? What if my mum tells him you were here, and I- I-"

    "Shh." Zayn said, immediately walking toward me and pulling me into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close, and I just felt so on the edge, ready to collapse at any second, but Zayn's touch made things seem better.

    "Just breathe, princess. Breathe for me, please." He ordered gently, and I nodded against his shoulder, taking a deep inhale of his scent and feeling myself calm a bit, though my heart continued racing. I didn't know if it was from fear or the feeling of being close to Zayn. Maybe both.

     "I honestly just came to see you." He said, and I could feel my cheeks heating up at the confession. "I was going to do our usual, through the window, but it was locked, and I didn't see you inside." He said.

    "You could have waited. Or came back later." I said, feeling a bit of anger toward his recklessness. I just wanted him to be okay.

     "I could have, but going home would have been bad." He explained, and I looked up at him, my eyes questioning what he meant by that.

    I saw him smild at me, pressing a small kiss to my lips before speaking. "I had to get away from the alcohol." He informed, and it made sense now. He was doing his best not to drink, just as I was doing my best to eat, and I felt warmth bloom inside of me. "You're the only thing that takes away the urge."

     "Why?" I asked. "What made you want to drink?" I clarified. It was so early in the morning. I've never seen anyone drink this early, not even really my dad. I knew this was a real problem for Zayn, and I wanted to help him in any wau I could.

    "Um... well, a couple reasons actually." He said, motioning over to my bed, and I nodded, pulling him over by his hand and walking over with him. He sat down, resting against the headboard and pulling me over so I was sitting between his legs, feeling him press a kiss to the back of my neck.

     "First, I didn't have the best dream last night. You were in it." He confessed, and I felt myself tense up, knowing whatever his nightmare was probably terrified him. I didn't know what could scare Zayn that badly.

     "You were getting hit by your dad. Repeatedly. And I couldn't do a thing. I- no matter how hard I tried... nothing worked. He just kept going. And there was blood. So much blood. And I was crying and screaming at him to leave you alone. To stop trying to take you away from me. I don't think I could survive if you were taken away from me because I-" He cut himself off, pressing a kiss to my head, one that I knew was full of pain and care. "I can't stop thinking about the fact that I'm letting you down."

    I turned my head to look up at him, seeing that his eyes were closed, lost in sorrow. "What do you mean?" I asked. If he was referring to the past, the bullying, he was wrong. We were past that. I still found it unusual that we are where we are now, but I also loved it.

    "In a way, my dream was true." He breathed out, furrowing his brow in hurt and anger. "I'm watching you get hurt, letting it happen, but I'm not really doing anything. I'll allowing it to continue. I'm keeping it a secret, Liam, and you're the one paying for it. I'm letting you down because I'm hiding it away. I'm not being strong." He said, and I knew there was so much inner turmoil that he was dealing with, but his words made me pull away from his hold.

    "Zayn, you can't tell." I begged, noticing the way his eyes began to water, like it pained him to keep the secret. And guilt overwhelmed me, flooding through me in waves because I was hurting him. I was abusing him in a different kind of way.

    "What if my dream comes true?" He asked, reaching out for me desperately, and I felt my heart ache. "I can't... I can't lose you, princess. I've never felt this way about anyone. I've never wanted something so bad." He said, his eyes never leaving mine.

     "Nothing will happen." I promised, but I knew it was an empty promise. I couldn't promise him that, but the words were all that came to mind. I saw the unsettled look upon his face, and I sighed.

    "Before graduation." I said, feeling so nervous about the promise I was about to make. "I'll tell my mum sometime before graduation... I promise."

     "What if that's not early enough?" He asked, fingers clutching onto my waist as he pulled me close, allowing me to straddle his waist, and I knew it was the wrong thing to think about, but I couldn't help but to remember the night we spent together that was full of so much pleasure and passion. Still, the sadness on his face was enough to pull me back from delving into those thoughts.

    "Zayn, nothing will take me away from you." I declared, doing my best not to break eye contact. "I promised you that I would never leave you, and I won't. Trust me." I breathed out, pressing a small kiss to his lips, feeling the way my whole being craved even more from him.

     "I do trust you, princess. Doesn't take away the worry." He reminded, and I nodded, completely understanding that.

     "What was the other reason?" I asked, seeing confusion fall upon his face, and I continued. "The other reason you wanted to drink. Besides the dream." I said, and he nodded in understanding now.

    "Um, I guess it's just that same old internal struggle." He revealed, sounding like he didn't want to continue. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Liam, but I just... God, I was thinking about what we did together- how good it felt -and then I saw the scars. The word sin carved there, and I... I was afraid. Because I was going against all of the torture and the pain, trying to be happy, but it's so hard when I keep hearing his voice in my mind. When I know he's behind bars, still there and not regretting a single thing." He said, and I felt the way his hands began to shake where he touched me. The fear was so deeply enrooted in him.

     "It's okay, Zayn. I understand." I said, trying my best to calm him down. He hurt that he still had that voice inside of him, telling him everything we were was wrong. "Maybe... maybe we can have some space. If you need." I offered, feeling a sting in my heart at just saying the words.

     "No." He immediately replied. "No, no, no. I don't want that. I don't need space, I need you. I need to be able... to touch you and know that you're real." He said, one hand lifting up to cup my cheek, his other pulling me closer by my waist, and I let out a shaky breath as he rested our foreheads together; more intimate than ever before. "That you're not just some figment of my imagination. I need to know this is okay." He continued, and I found myself longing to kiss him again ad I felt his lips gently brush mine due to our close proximity.

    "I... I need you, too." I breathed out hesitantly. I was afraid. So afraid to give myself completely. Afraid to allow Zayn to realize all of the power he had over me, but maybe he was exactly the same way. This was being brave.

       "I... I can't stand fleeting kisses because it feels like you're disappearing. And I don't like the feeling." I admitted, closing my eyes, but I felt the intensity of his stare still. "I don't like the way my heart hurts when you're not here, but I like the way it aches when you are. I don't like the way I feel pain when you're not touching me, but I like the way I feel like floating when you are. I don't like being alone. It scares me. But... I like being alone with you." I finally got out, my heart racing quickly in my chest, beating so hard I could hear the way it pumped. It was a constant bass in my ears of Zayn's name; the way he made me feel.

     "I'm so use to being numb." Zayn said, and I shivered as his hand moved up my spine, resting again at the nape of my neck. "You make me feel." He said, his thumb trailing over my bottom lip. "I'm use to being alone, but... it's nice to be together." He said, and I opened my eyes to see him smiling softly at me, my heart stopping for a second before I felt his lips on mine.

     I kissed back instantly, mustering up as much passion and care to put the words I feared to say into the kiss; my heart flooding as I felt the same thing back. Words left unsaid that hurt yet filled with joy.

    I didn't know someone could be your poison and your antidote.  
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     "Why isn't he hanging out with Louis instead?" Zayn asked from where he was laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I was getting ready to go meet up with Harry, and Zayn seemed to dislike the idea immediately.

     "I don't know. Maybe Louis' busy. He's your best friend." I pointed out, slipping on some shoes and turning to the closet to grab a jacket only to frown as I realized nothing would be there.

     "You can wear mine." He offered, shrugging off his leather jacket, and I shook my head.

     "I have one. I just don't want to risk taking it out." I informed, blushing a bit at the fact that I kept one of Zayn's jackets under my pillow. It was almost as embarrassing as doodling hearts in a notebook with your crushe's name. Only the jacket made me feel safe, and Zayn was way more than a crush.

    "Now you don't have to." He said gently, wrapping the jacket around me and allowing me to slip my arms through it, the sleeves surpassing my hands, much too long for me. I looked up at Zayn as he rolled back the sleeves, knowing the leather would crease, but he didn't seem to care.

     "Warm enough?" He asked after he finished rolling the other sleeve back. I looked up at him and nodded, feeling so taken care of. "Yeah? Think I like it better on you." He smiled, and I looked down at the ground as I felt a blush overtake me.

     My face was lifted up again as Zayn grabbed under my chin, lifting my head until I was looking directly into his eyes. "You're absolutely beautiful, princess." He complimented, and the amount of adoration in his eyes pained me to see. I let out a small whine, feeling Zayn pull me closer. "My beautiful princess." He smiled softly, pressing his lips to mine.

    And I was floating. I felt so lightweight whenever we kissed, and I wondered if this was what people meant when they said they were on cloud nine. It must be.

     "Zayn, I... I have to go... soon." I said between kisses, and I felt my heart jump in joy as he linked our hands together, smiling into the kiss.

    "I really don't want you to." He said, leaving my lips to trail kisses down my neck, making the skin tingle and feel so warm. I shivered when he kissed over the most sensitive spot, my hands flying to hold onto his back, keeping him close eventhough my mind told me to stop.

      "I have to. Harry'll be waiting." I panted out, feeling a bit worked up as I felt him bite at my exposed skin, not leaving a mark but sending a jolt of pleasure through me anyway.

      "Is Harry more important than this?" He asked, pushing my sleeve off of my shoulder and attaching his lips there, sucking a bruise onto me, and I gasped in surprise and arousal.

    "Z-Zayn... n-no marks." I reminded, but I didn't make a move to stop him. It felt too good. And I found myself thinking of having a piece of him on me in public. Even if others couldn't see it under my shirts, I would know it was there.

    "Sorry." He said, insincerely, as soon as he pulled away, a reddish purple mark left behind. He stared at the mark he made for a few seconds more before pulling my shirt back over it and looking at me with serious eyes.

    "Will, um, his little friend be there?" He asked, eyes looking down as if he was embarrassed for asking, but he didn't need to be.

     "Niall?" I questioned, and he shrugged as if he didn't really care what his name was. "I don't know. Harry never said, but I wouldn't be surprised if he came around." I answered honestly. I knew why Zayn didn't like him, but I couldn't even look at another person when he was always on my mind.

     "Okay." He said, nodding his head. "I guess... guess I should go now. Let you go meet up with Harry." He said, dropping my hands and walking toward my bedroom door. I couldn't help but sense a bit of sadness coming off of him, and I despised that. He should never be sad.

     "Zayn," I said, grabbing onto his arm. He turned to look at me, and I searched his eyes for the reason he was so upset. And I remembered his words. How he was afraid I would find someone better. But I would never find anyone that would make me feel half as much as Zayn does. And I know he was use to being alone, but he said we were better together. How much did it hurt to give someone a together only to throw it away?

     I turned him to me, walking close and leaning in, our lips almost meeting but not quite. "I'm yours." I promised, hearing him give a sharp intake of breath at my words. "I think you're the only thing thar makes me feel alive." I confessed.

    "Liam, who do you think I was talking about when I said I've been in love?" He asked in a gentle whisper, and I felt my heart beating rapidly in my chest. There was a certain fear that ran through me, and I gave a smile, though it turned to a sad one, not wanting to believe any of the words we've said. This closeness was dangerous, but I was already too close. I was already captured into the familiar orbit.

     "I don't know." I said, rushing out my next sentence. "I'm afraid to know, so please don't tell me." I begged.

      "I don't have to tell you." He mumbled before his lips were on mine again, and I was giving in to the addictive drug on his lips, knowing that this kiss held so much more than my heart was ready to handle.

     I felt my heart beat speed up, and I knew what my heart wanted. All of the times it beat quickly, ached too much, or longed for the smallest touch, it was begging me to realize what terrifying emotions truly lived inside of me. And I wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

     I would do anything to keep the flame from burning away my everything. To keep the bruises from damaging my heart any more.

    Because what my heart wanted... was Zayn.


	33. Yearn

"Have you been waiting for a while?" Harry asked as soon as he pulled up beside the curb. I shook my head, walking around the car to get in through the other side. "Alright then. My boss just wanted me to finish shelving a few more items before I was allowed to leave. Tried to do it quickly and efficiently." He explained.

He began driving, doing a complete u-turn before taking off down the street, in the opposite direction of my house, which I was thankful for. I didn't want to be anywhere near that place.

"Do you have a job?" He asked, and I shook my head. Maybe it was because I wasn't really allowed out of the house because of my dad. He didn't like it, which was why spending the afternoon with Harry was a risk. But maybe it was also because I was only interested in writing music. Lyrics at the least.

"No. I just spend most of my time writing songs. Never really thought about working, but if I worked anywhere I'd prefer it to be around music." I confessed, thinking of radio stations or record stores.

"So, if you're completely in love with music, and it's what you want in life, why don't you go to Rosewood? I bet you'd be talented enough to make it on scholarship." He said, and I rose my eyebrow.

"Do you go on scholarship?" I asked, feeling a bit insulted at the fact that he assumed my parents wouldn't have enough money to send me to that school. They wouldn't, but that was besides the point. I just hoped Harry wasn't the typical rich-kid type because he never seemed to be.

"Yes, actually." He mumbled, sounding a bit ashamed. "I feel like I'm the only person who does. Even Niall's family is loaded. Everyone pays their way through, and I keep it a complete secret that I'm going on scholarship. Last thing I need is commenting about my poor homelife." He said, and I offered him a small smile as he glanced my way.

"It's okay. I understand. My parents are in a struggle as well. Can hardly buy clothes for ourselves. Couldn't even afford a jacket, which is perfectly fine." I added, and he spoke up.

"Whose jacket is that then? Because last time I checked, rolling back leather is a good way to get it to crease." He noted, and I looked out if the window, avoiding any kind of eye contact at my nervousness.

"Just a friend's." I muttered, but he heard me anyway.

"What friend? I'd love to meet him sometime. I'm always welcome to new people." He said, and I looked over at him as I noticed we were parked in a driveway. Harry flashed me a smile before climbing out of the car.

I followed behind him as he led me to the front door of the little house, and it made me feel guilty when I realized it was smaller than my own. Here I was feeling miserable about my mum's struggle when Harry seemed to have it worse. It made me question why he had to get a job in the first place.

"It's not much, but it's home." He smiled warmly as he opened the front door and led me inside. He had such a positive spirit, and it was refreshing to see. I found myself envious of the fact that it was so easy for him to feel joy.

I looked around his home, seeing that the furniture was simple, yet felt comfortable to be around. There were two arm chairs in the living room, a small table in the middle of them as they faced the small box that was the TV. There was a shelf on the wall behind the chairs, a few books upon it and a picture frame on the left side. A typical smiling family. One mum, one dad, and a little boy who must've been Harry.

I was focusing so much on the picture that I flinched as I heard a crashing sound from the kitchen. Harry rushed over, and I followed along behind him, turning into the small space to see a woman cursing as she did her best to shakily clean up the glass on her hands and knees.

"Mum, what happened?" He asked gently, walking over to her side, and I felt as if I was intruding as I heard her sniffle and sounding on the verge of tears as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I was just trying to cook dinner, and I didn't mean to drop it. I can't do anything right, love. I'm sorry, sweetheart." She apologized as she stopped trying to pick up the glass, wiping her face instead.

"No, it's not your fault. It's alright. You're a great mum." He offered kindly, taking her hand and helping her stand up. "Just go lay down. I'll take care of dinner." He said, and his mum nodded, turning and jumping in fright as she saw me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware Harry brought a friend." She said, seeming embarrassed. She kept playing with her hands, twisted on her fingers nervously before she put a smile on her facd, holding her hand out for me.

"My name's Anne. I'm Harry's mum." She greeted, and I did my best to smile as well, but I could tell the happy family in the photo wasn't quite the same anymore. The smile on Harry's face wasn't naturally there. He did everything he could to keep it plastered on.

"Hello. I'm Liam. It's nice to meet you. Harry's a wonderful person, and your home is quite cozy." I offered, hearing her give out a small laugh that seemed to make Harry smile, filling the room up with a sudden light tone.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Liam. I'll leave you boys to it. I'll go lay down now." She said, playing nervously with her hands again as she walked away, and I heard Harry sigh, turning back to see him on his hands and knees, picking the rest of the glass up and throwing it into the bin.

I suddenly felt closer to him; as if I just discovered a side of him that not many people saw, and I would cherish it. He wasn't a snooty rich kid. He wasn't even remotely close to perfect, but he seemed to be on the exterior. Like most things.

I got onto my knees as well, helping him pick up the glass, and he gave me a kind smile. "Sorry about that. She's usually nervous and hectic." He said, and I didn't want to pry into his life, but the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Why is she so nervous?" I questioned, my eyes widening as I realized my evasive question, but Harry only laughed, throwing the last bit of glass into the bin as he went to get a broom to sweep away any little pieces still left.

"It's okay to ask questions, mate. Everyone gets curious." He informed, beginning to sweep, and I noticed how he always seemed to move with such ease. As if nothing phased him. Or maybe the fact that he controlled the broom was the only thing offering him any power.

"She use to never act that way. But, um, my dad... he became insanely ill right before my first audition into Rosewood. It was a terminal illness, and eventhough I knew he was in pain, he still came to my audition to cheer me on. I got a callback, but... he passed away two days before. And my mum... it's been a struggle for her. Losing the love of her life. We fell behind on rent, so I got a job, and my mum grew more anxious. She takes pills for it, but the nerves are always there." He said, and I held the dustpan as he swept the glass onto it. "I think she's afraid of losing me, too." He confessed.

"I'm sorry, Harry." I said, not really knowing what else I could say. "Were you and your dad close?" I asked, feeling stupid for asking when he basically said he did all he could to attend his audition.

"Yeah. He was actually the first person I came out to. Didn't really even have to come out, he just sort of knew." He laughed, seeming genuinely happy at the memory. "And he didn't make things awkward. He just accepted me."

I couldn't help the tug of jealousy that grew within me, wishing my father was accepting, and I felt so ashamed of the feeling. It wasn't about the acceptance, it was about Harry losing someone close to him.

"Does Louis know about all of this?" I asked, and his smile fell a bit before being plastered on his face again.

"Louis' met my mum. Several times. Always when she was fine because of pills. He's been over, he's seen my house, and he still loves me eventhough his family has money and I have none. He still loves me for me, but he's never seen my mum off of pills. I don't want him to react badly when he sees how unstable my mum could be. Because if anything happened that changed his mind, I would be heartbroken, but I would always put my mum first. Just like she's always put me first." He admitted, putting everything away and walking over to the stove, mixing whatever was in the pot.

"I don't think anything would make Louis stop loving you." I announced, seeing him turn to look at me after he was finished. "You're probably his favorite topic to talk about." I offered with a smile, and I noticed the way he blushed at the statement. It was clear infatuation, and I knew that he was feeling exactly what I felt whenever Zayn was mentioned.

I tugged onto the jacket, hooking my fingers around the sleeves like sweater paws and smiling at the thought of Zayn, seeing Harry turn back to cooking.

"Well, I hope not." He said before turning off the stove and turning to me. "I can finish this later. My guitar is in my room. It's one of the few things I invested in. I can play for you out here." He said, motioning to the living room as we made our way to his bedroom.

It was a small room, barely big enough to fit much in, but manageable for one person. His bed was a single, pressed into the corner of the room, a closet right across from it, and there was nothing much else besides a small bedside table and a guitar resting in the opposite corner from the bed.

Harry grabbed the guitar, and I continued looking around as he searched for papers in his bottom drawer of his bedside table, the sound of paper crinkling around as he rummaged through them. There wasn't much to look at, nothing much at all, and I guess that's what made me admire the place that much more.

"Your house is honestly amazing." I said before I even realized I was speaking aloud. Harry looked over at me, holding papers in his hands as he shook his head.

"It's okay to say it looks crappy. It's fine." He said, still smiling a friendly smile. I think Harry was a genuinely happy person, and I envied that. It must take a lot of work to be so happy when life dealt you a bad hand.

"No, it's nice. It's comfortable. Like there's no tension, and you can tell that an actual family lives here. Not just people that happened to be part of the same family tree." I assured, and he laughed a bit.

"Thanks, mate. Here, these are the song lyrics. Figured you can look through them as I sang. Feel free to make any suggestions." He said, handing my the papers as he scooted past me, motioning for me to follow him back to the living room.

I sat on the chair as he set himself up, smiling once at me before he began playing, his fingers moving over the strings of the guitar with familiarity. The sound was lovely, but it was nothing compared to how Zayn played. He held a sense of pain behind his notes and had a strong connection to his instrument. Harry was talented though. It was obvious why he was able to get a scholarship.

I listened closely as he began singing, stunned by the deep rumble of his voice that filled the room perfectly. He had an astonishing voice, and I had fo focus on the lyrics before I got caught up in just the sound of his timbre.

The song was about love, and it was clear it was written from personal experience. It amazed me how easily Harry was able to express his emotions without holding back. It was almost as if he had no fear. It was pure bravery.

He finished all too soon, and he looked up at me. "So, what did you think?" He asked, and I smiled at his suddenly reserved look.

"It was incredible, Harry. I can clearly see why you won a scholarship. Um, I'm a big fan of raw, honest emotions, and this song clearly had that. Did you write it yourself?" I asked, already knowing he must have, but it was incredible. Anyone would know he was deeply in love with who the song was about, and I could only imagine how Louis would feel hearing it.

"Yeah. I did my best. Got any pointers?" He asked, setting the guitar down and sitting in the other chair. He looked at me expectantly, and I felt a bit weird judging other people's music. I didn't want anyone to feel bad about their work, especially when it was incredible.

"C'mon, mate. I won't get offended. I'm the one asking you for help." Harry pressed, smiling kindly, and I nodded looking back down at the lyrics and seeing what I would do. Things may work, or they may not. It was worth a try.

"Um, maybe you could slow it down on the hook. Like, the song is already a lovely slow song about love, but I feel like those words are something you'd say only to Louis. Like a secret you wouldn't want anyone else to hear. It's personal, not that the whole thing isn't, but that part is the most personal." I explained.

"Yeah." Harry agreed, smiling at me in approval of my suggestion, and I felt a bit accomplished. "That could definitely work. Let's try it." He said, grabbing the guitar again to practice the changes.

And that's how much of my afternoon was spent.  
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I was walking back to Zayn's house, not wanting to arrive home in his jacket just in case. Sure, it was getting dark and the air was getting cold, but I didn't want to take any chances. I didn't want him to feel guilty for my own decisions. My fear.

I knocked on the front door, waiting a few seconds before the door opened. Colette smiled at me pleasantly, and her smile immediatelt grew as she eyes the jacket on me. "Hello, dear. Come in. Are you feeling better?" She asked, shutting the door behind me as I stepped inside.

"Yeah. Thank you for allowing me to stay and just rest up." I said, truly feeling thankful. I've never had that offer, and I wondered if that was how Zayn felt that day in the bathroom stall. How someone offered him comfort without knowing the reason behind his suffering. Did it mean this much to him?

"You're very welcome. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You're welcome to come over anytime you need to. You're basically family now." She announced, and the word make my heart skip a beat. "Zayn's in his room by the way. He'll be happy to see you, I'm sure."

"Thanks." I said, turning away to make my way through the hallway. I was going toward Zayn's room, but I froze as I heard the sound of the piano filling the hallway before it was silent for a while. I walked over to the music room, hearing a few more notes play before it was silent again.

I came to the door, slowly pressing it open until I could see inside. Zayn was at the piano, seeming deep in thought. I watched silently as he scribbled something down on paper before playing a few more notes on the piano. I realized he was writing a song.

I walked into the room, quietly closing the door behind me as I approached him. I peaked over his shoulder, seeing him scribble down a few more notes, playing them, then erasing and writing down some more.

I began reading over the notes he had so far. Like all of his other music, it was lovely. It seemed to hold a message in it, but I couldn't determine what it was. He was still a closed book, without the lock, but I would never invade that privacy.

"How was your day with Harry?" He suddenly asked, and I saw the smirk that made its way on his face ay my surprise. I walked around the piano, seeing how concentrated he looked, sitting there and continuing the same actions over and over.

"Um, good. He's very talented." I informed, hearing him give out a small hum as he scribbled down a few more notes he just finished playing. "Your aunt said you were in your room." I pointed out.

"Yeah, I was. Just... needed some type of distraction." He mumbled, scribbling more notes down.

"From what?" I questioned softly, already thinking of his addiction to alcohol and the numbness it offers. 

"Everything." He sighed, setting his pencil down. He looked up at me, and I stepped closer, moving to sit beside him on the bench. I hesitantly took his hand in mine, seeing the sweet smile spread on his face at the innocent action.

"What are you writing about?" I asked, changing the subject from whatever pain Zayn seemeu to be going through because as much as I wanted to speak about it, I knew Zayn just wanted to forget. There would always be other times to bring it up.

"Just a song about, um... this whole struggle. You know, with identifying who I am inside. I want something to say that yes, the struggle is there, and yes, the path you may take is scary, but that doesn't mean you just give up. It's hard to be proud of who you are. I don't know if I've even reached the beginning of that level." He admitted, and I seemed to fall even more into Zayn, desperately trying not to drown in the waters but getting sucked in anyway. I was in my own denial, but it seemed futile to fight against this immense feeling.

"You don't have to be there yet. Like you said, it is hard. I'm not even sure if I'm proud. It's hard to be when all you get is bullying from it." I confessed, and I was surprised again as Zayn turned my head, looking me in the eyes before pressing a sweet kiss to my lips. It was longer than the usual short pecks he gave, and I felt my heart flutter, knowing that he remembered the fear I felt from short kisses.

"You make me want to be proud." He whispered as soon as he broke away, and I couldn't help but hear the suffering in his voice. It was so much to handle. "And I know I'm hurting you. In all of the times I let go of your hand in public and pretend we're just something close to acquaintances. The point is, Liam... after all of these years, I am finding out who I am. I'm allowing myself the soft sin of touching you, holding you, and kissing you. I'm allowing myself to like it, but that voice inside of me still screams so loudly."

I felt his hand trembling again from where it was cupping my cheek. I reached my hand up, holding it over his and steadying his hand. I remember his fear about me not being real; not truly being here. Sadly, I knew there was nothing I could do except try to calm his inner demons.

"Zayn," I began, taking a deep breath, "I think we're always going to hurt each other no matter what. Whether it's good or bad, and maybe it's because we want so much. We want this... whatever this is... but we already have it. And we are both fighting it in some way, trying not to let ourselves go too far in fear of breaking ourselves or breaking each other." As I said the words, I realized they were true. Too honest to be spoken, but I couldn't stop.

"I know those voices in your head, those voices of your past, tell you this is wrong, but you're so strong for fighting against that." I finished, holding myself back from other things I wanted to say.

"I don't want you, princess, I need you. I physically need you to survive. I've been playing a role my whole life, and it gets so hard to do, but with you... you make me who I am. And I don't feel this way about you because you're the only boy. Never think that. I feel this way about you because you've never changed. You're still that careful person who I never knew was in pain. And I want to fix that." He said, and I nodded, feeling the same way.

"You do." I confessed, sighing as he pressed his lips to mine again. Everything always felt better when he kissed me. All of my doubt, pain, and fear blew away. And I focused on the kiss. On feeling something that I knew I was afraid of but was such a rush. This feeling deep inside.

We broke apart, sharing small, shy smiles, and I always loved his smile. "Um, we can continue your piano lessons if you want." He offered, pushing the song aside, and I nodded, still focused on the way he made my heart rush, like a constant heart attack that never caused damage.

He moves to turn to the piano, but I pulled him back into a kiss, never wanting to lose the feeling of that deep emotion we both must feel. We must feel it, but I was afraid to admit it.

I let out a shaky breath as I elt his finger trace letters into my thigh. Three words that made my heart pound in my ears and my eyes squeeze shut tighter. Three words that I was afraid to hear because I didn't want to believe them. Three words that made me want to pull away in fear, but I couldn't stop my longing for the boy who held my heart in a gentle grip. So I did my best to ignore the words, and I continued kissing him, holding back the tears that were building in my eyes. I knew I felt it too. And then I realized something.

The flame burning brighter was inevitable, but I didn't know if it would burn out and die, ignite into a passionate fire of this deep emotion we felt, or burn everything to ashes, destroying and breaking hearts. 

All I knew was that I was afraid to find out.


	34. Hold

I stared into the mirror as I did my best to cover up any exposed bruises. I was so use to the way they layered my skin. They were just another layer hidden underneath. Another secret hidden behind such a thin fixture.

I covered more of the bruises on my arms, always feeling a bit ashamed for having to hide all of the marks. Why was I so afraid? Why was I always so afraid to talk about it? I've tried before, but every time I get close, the constant reminder of the pain, of the fact that I'm worthless, fills my brain.

I set down the concealer after everything seemed covered, and I made my way out of the restroom, grabbing my backpack and slinging it onto my shoulder. I made my way out of my room and down the hall, stopping once I saw my mum already up and watching TV. I moved to walk by her without having conversation, but she called my name.

"Oh, Liam, would you like to invite Zayn over tonight? Your dad and I are going out. Figured you wouldn't want to be alone." She said, and that was a surprise to me. I don't even remember the last time my parents went out together. My mum was either working or at home, mainly working, while my dad was always out. He would work a bit, drink a lot, and then sometimes stay out all hours of the night with his asshole friends.

"What?" I asked because it was all I could get out in my confusion. They haven't been alone together unless they were sleeping at night. I felt like my dad hardly enjoyed my mum's company anymore, and I felt like that was my fault.

"It's our anniversary, Liam. Eighteen years of marriage, Liam. Twenty-two years of knowing each other. Seems like it was just yesterday, except... things have changed... in a way." She said, seeming a bit upset by whatever was going on through her mind, and even though the fact that they've been married so long angered me, I didn't like seeing my mum upset.

"Well, I hope you two have a good night." I said, hating the way the words tasted in my mouth, but it made my mum smile, so I was happy to have said it. The only bright side would be that my mum would get a rest from housework and overtime that she did everyday. I would also get a break from seeing my dad for a while, and Zayn coming over would be a bonus.

I said goodbye to my mum after she wished me to have a great day. As soon as I walked out of the door, the feeling of dread hit me. Dread and guilt. Because I let my mum believe that the man she married eighteen years ago was a good person. I let her continue this relationship for so long, and I never said anything. And I was so afraid that eighteen years would develop into nineteen or twenty. Even if I said anything, how hard would it be to tear yourself apart from the person you love?

I walked to school, not being able to shake the thought from my head. Their anniversary. It just seemed so wrong.

"You okay?" I heard a voice ask, and I looked up to see Louis staring at me with worried eyes. I looked behind him to see Zayn there as well, giving me a knowing look, but what he thought was wrong wasn't.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I said, mustering up my best smile, but I saw the way Zayn continued to look at me with that same worried look while Louis seemed to accept the answer.

"Harry told me you helped him out with his song for the showcase. Just wanted to say thank you for doing that. I'm rubbish at giving advice on music, so I thought you'd be a good person to do that. From what you've told me, you really like writing, so I just assumed." He said, and I could just tell that Louis has never thanked anyone for things like this.

"It's cool, Louis. It was no problem. He was wonderful, and I think you'd really enjoy his song." I said, actually feeling true pride for Harry. I may not have known him for long, but I could just tell how hard he worked for everything he had. His talent, his scholarship, his friends, and his friendly smile. He could have shut out his heart and hated everyone, but he chose to open it up wide like a mother's arms around her newborn. I guess we all did that in a way.

"I would give him a Grammy for just singing the ABC's." He joked, but I sensed the bit of truth behind it. It made me happy to know that two people were so in love, and my heart pounded at the thought of Zayn tracing three words against my thigh the night before.

We didn't say anything about it after we stopped kissing. Zayn seemed to be in some type of agony, as if he had a longing to say what was on his mind, but I shut my eyes, resting my forehead against his and hoping he would understand that I couldn't handle that. I saw that such emotions could be deceiving, and the people you felt them for could become complete strangers first hand. I was afraid of that.

I turned away from him, looking back down at the piano keys and reminding him that he still had to teach me to play. So he taught me a few things, and I was currently working on a random melody that he seemed to remember from him childhood. He said it was a sort of lullaby that his aunt would play for him. It was beautiful to say the least.

"Well, I have to go do corrections on a quiz before class starts. See you both at lunch." He said, giving Zayn a pointed look that seemed to warn him to be nice to me, and I wondered if Louis still thought Zayn was bullying me. The last time he questioned it was during the whole incident with my burns.

He gave us both a smile before turning and walking down the hall toward whatever class he had. Instantly, Zayn was asking me questions.

"What happened, Liam? And don't say nothing. If your dad hurt you again I-" He began, and I cut him off as I shook my head.

"No. No, it's not that. It's my parents. Their, um, their anniversary." I announced, seeing Zayn's look of surprise. "Their eighteenth anniversary." I deadpanned, still feeling so surreal about it.

"Shit." He mumbled, and I saw him lift his hand to reach out to me, but he quickly lowered it right after he realized his action. It was a way to kick me when I was already down. "Are you okay?" He questioned, and I shrugged, not looking in his eyes anymore. Was it so bad to even touch me in public?

"Can we not talk about this here? I just want to forget for a while." I pleaded, and he nodded at my request. "Also, my mum said that you could come over tonight. Only if you want to of course. My parents would be gone, but there isn't much we can do." I said, hoping that he would come over. I never fancied being alone. It was one of my worst fears, but I seemed to live it everyday.

"I'd love to come over." He said with a smile, and I finally met his eyes, seeing a strong look of adoration in them, and I suddenly felt nervous about his acceptance. I remembered the three words again, and the fear made my blood run cold.

I was afraid to be alone with Zayn, yet it was also all I wanted.  
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"Is Zayn coming over tonight, sweetheart?" My mum asked as I was helping her wash the dishes, and I tensed up because my dad was also in the room. I felt the way his gaze seemed to burn through me, and I gulped, closing my eyes for a second before nodding.

"Yes." I mumbled out. "We'll probably just, um, watch a movie or something." I stated, trying to get myself into less trouble. I knew what my dad was thinking, and I knew he was disgusted in the very thought of leaving me alone with a boy, but he sat silently.

"I'm sure that'd be lovely." My mum said as she turned the sink off, setting down the last dish and turning to me. Well, I'm going to go get ready. See you tomorrow morning, dear." She said, kissing my head before walking out of the kitchen, and I quickly followed, not wanting to be alone with my dad. My attempts to get away, however, were useless.

I rushed to my room, about to close the door before my dad pushed it open, closing it behind him and giving me a sinister smile. I stepped back, staring at the floor and not being able to stand the look of hatred in his eyes. Eighteen years my parents have been together, and my dad only loved me for nearly ten, unless he stored the hatred in for longer than I knew.

"You think I'm going to allow you to be alone with some guy under my roof?" He began with a sick chuckle. "So you defile this house with your goddamn sin-filled ways? Your whorish ways?" He said, raising his voice a bit more, but not enough for my mum to possibly hear, only enough to intimidate me more.

He took steps closer to me, and I backed away until my back hit the wall, and he gave me such an angry and pissed off glare that it made my mouth open up, a yell building from the back of my throat, but his hand quickly held my mouth, and I felt the familiar cold metal pressed to my neck again. I couldn't hold back the tears this time as he pressed down, drawing a small amount of blood. I felt the small drop trickle down like a bloody tear. My body was crying just as much as I was.

"Remember this, you piece of shit," He spat, and I flinched slightly as some spit landed on my face from how angered he was. "You have no idea when we're coming back. And if I so much as see someone here with you, I will not be held responsible for my actions." He said, pressing the knife against my neck again. "Understand?" He questioned, and I nodded desperately.

"If I see him here, I will kill you. Both of you. And I won't regret a damn thing." He threatened, and I gulped. "So be a good fag and follow directions." He finished before he pulled away the knife, closing it up and storing it in his pocket before turning and leaving out of my bedroom door.

I crumpled to the ground as soon as he shut the door, trembling in fear and feeling hot, wet tears streaming down my face. My mum would be spending hours talking and laughing to that monster of a man, and I couldn't say a thing. Not while he was here. Not if I wanted to see my mum smile. Not unless I wanted to ruin our family even more than I already had.

I don't know how long I stayed there, crying and shaking in fear, but I heard the front door open and close, meaning my parents left. I jumped as I heard a tap at my window about five minutes later. I looked over to see Zayn there, looking around outside. I wiped my eyes, trying to look indifferent in my hurt.

I went over, opening my window and allowing Zayn to climb inside. He smiled at me for a second before his smile fell and he was rushing toward me, hands going to my neck, fingers pulling back with small drops of blood on them. "Liam, what the fuck happened?" He asked, tone so serious I knew not to give my usual response of 'nothing'. I was too shaken up not to break down again anyway.

I fell into Zayn's opened arms, crying and clinging onto him for dear life. It hurt. Everything hurt.

It hurt that my dad hated me so much for something I couldn't control. It hurt that my mum was just as oblivious as she was in love with my dad. It hurt that I was an idiotic coward that kept everything a secret. It hurt to know that I was dragging Zayn into this. I was pulling him along for this torturous and helpless ride, making him silent as well; unable to help me like a wanted to. It hurt that even though I was so terrible, that he was here. Still here.

"M-my dad." I spoke between sobs, and Zayn led us over to the bed, sitting down on it as he pulled me close to his chest, and my tears worsened as he traced the same three words against the skin of my arm as a way to attempt to calm me down. It only frightened me more. I didn't deserve those words.

"What did he do, princess?" He asked, and I heard the strain in his voice. I knew he hurt just seeing me this way. I never wanted to hurt him, but I did. Everyday and in so many different ways.

"He- he held a p-pocketknife... to my neck. H-he said if he saw you here... when they came back... he'd kill me. Me and you." I confessed, so afraid. Not for myself. For Zayn. Zayn was all that mattered.

"Liam, you can't go on like this. You need to tell someone about what that bastard is doing to you." He stated, and I pulled away, crying and shaking my head, begging for him to not say a word.

"N-no, I-I can't. He'll hurt me more, Zayn. He'll hurt me, and he'll hurt you. I can-can't let him hurt you." I begged, hoping he would keep his mouth shut.

"Well, I can't keep letting him hurt you, Liam!" Zayn yelled, finally snapping, and it pained me to the core to hear how afraid he sounded. It was like he didn't know what else to do. He probably felt powerless for the first time in a long time.

"He made you fuck-ing bleed!" He yelled, voice breaking for a second. "He held a knife to your throat, Liam. He threatened to kill you, and I don't even want to imagine what it would feel like... how much it would hurt to wake up to a world without you in it." He cried, and I was finally seeing how badly keeping my secret hurt him. It was all being put on display.

"I lost someone that I was close to before, Liam." Zayn said, lowering his voice and looking at me with a desperate gaze. "When my mum passed away, my aunt was there to help me pick up the pieces. I don't think she could help me if anything happened to you because I've fallen in too deep." He announced, invading my space again and looking me in the eyes.

"I use to try to push you away. You know that. I would do everything to deny the way I felt. The way I craved to touch you, and I still try to deny it now, but I'm terrible at it." He admitted, a sad smile on his lips. "But I couldn't stay away from you, and I got use to you. I got use to us, and you have all of me. You always have without my knowing. I can't lose you, princess. I just can't."

"You won't. I've told you that before, and I meant it, Zayn. If things ever got that bad... I would tell you. I would tell you straight away." I said. "It was one drop of blood."

"And what about the next time? What if it's more than a drop?" He pushed, and I sighed, closing my eyes, not wanting to see his panicked eyes.

"Zayn... I just want to enjoy this time with you. I want to forget. I want to just be happy with you. I think we both deserve that." I suggested. I didn't want to think about anything. I just wanted to feel weightless like I always did around Zayn. That bubble lf happiness that seemed to build in my stomach everytime I was near him. I wanted that addictive feeling of his lips on mine. Just like he needed a distraction from alcohol, I needed one from the pain.

"I'm just worried, Liam. So worried." He said, pulling me back into his hold, and I knew he was worried. He had every right to be.

"I can handle this. I can handle myself." I assured, pressing a kiss to his throat before resting my head on his shoulder, and he stayed that way for quite a while, just savoring each other's company and touch.

"I'm gonna go to the restroom. Wash my face and clean myself up." I said, moving to walk away, but Zayn pulled me back to him, pressing a kiss on my lips, his tongue swiping along my bottom lip, and I easily opened my mouth, becoming drugged by the emotions poured into the kiss.

And I became afraid. Afraid of the mass amount of emotion that made my heart clench in my chest, but also afraid of the desperation. Zayn was kissing me as if he would never kiss me again after tonight, and when we broke away, my eyes searched his as his roamed my face as if remembering every single up-close detail.

He was still a closed book. Still hid so much in his eyes that I couldn't understand.

I went to the restroom, taking care of everything before walking back out. I locked the bedroom door before Zayn and I sat in silence. No words were spoken that night. We laid beside each other for hours, eyes searching over faces and lips moving in sync every one in a while. Nothing was said, but I couldn't shake away the uneasy feeling I had in my gut. A feeling that made me deeply anxious.

It lingered there. Where I couldn't help but listen to its warning. Warning for what?

We shared one last kiss, and I snuggled into Zayn's chest, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep as he held me closer than ever.

The last thing I felt was the tracing of the three words against my arm.


	35. Inferno

I was walking home from school, feeling utterly confused about everything today. Zayn was acting awfully weird after last night. He hardly glanced my way, but I felt his eyes on me whenever I wasn't looking. We hardly spoke, and he never even attempted to question if I was okay or not as he usually would.

It scared me.

It made me question what I did wrong. Was keeping my secret too much for Zayn? Was he trying to distance himself from me to spare himself the pain? Was he letting me go? Was everything we had for nothing? Was it ending?

The thought made my breathing pick up as I began to panic. I ran up to my house, rushing inside and shutting the door, leaning against it and closing my eyes as I did all I could to control my breathing and this feeling of panic inside of me. Maybe... maybe I should just go and talk to Zayn. Maybe I should ask him what I did wrong.

Once I got my breathing back to normal, I made my way to my room, freezing as soon as I got into the hallway. I heard a sob resonate through the air, and I walked a little deeper into the hall, stopping in front of the basement door as soon as I heard another sob. I noticed the way it was cracked open, and my heart began to race all over again.

I slowly opened the door all the way before walking inside, seeing the way the little light illuminated the room. And everything looked worse in the light. Everything from the table that held tools of torture, to the wall with the worn and rusty chains, to the dark dried blood stains that colored the floor beneath anyone's feet. But the worse part of it all... was my mum kneeling down, the chain in her hand and tears in her eyes.

"Mum, why are you-" I began to question, feeling how hoarse my voice became from seeing her looking so distraught, from discovering something that never should have been discovered.

"Why didn't you tell me!?" She cried out, shaking on the chains, and I flinched at the clattering sound they made. It was an all too familiar sound as I would writhe around in pain. My mum let out another sob, attempting to catch her breath, and I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to cry as she continued speaking.

"You never said a word, Liam. I asked you." She said in a shaky breath out. "I asked you if your dad ever hurt you- I asked- I... he hurt my baby!" She cried, her tone full of pure agony, and I felt so much shame as hot tears began to pour down my cheeks. Guilt and anger.

"Mum, he never-" I attempted to say, trying to spare her heart that I knew was now breaking. She seemed fragile. Fragile and weak. I remember when I saw my mum as nothing but strong. This strong protector that I had. That vision was crumbling in front of my eyes.

"Don't you dare!" She said, dropping the chains down and standing up, moving toward me. "Don't you dare lie to me. Don't you dare defend that monster of a man! Don't you dare sit here, looking me in the eyes, and tell me that blood isn't yours!" She ordered, pointing a shaky finger at the massive stain. And I turned away from her, trying to leave, but she caught my arm.

"How long?" She questioned, her voice nearly audible, but everything seemed so loud. Everything was happening all at once. Fast, loud, and surreal. Something that I never wanted to happen. "How long has your father lied? How long have you lied? How long has he hurt you?" She asked, and I shook my head, tears of shame dropping.

"Baby," My mum mumbled, turning me to her and cupping my face, pressing a kiss on my forehead, and I couldn't stop the sob that shook my body. "How long has he hurt you? How long has that man broken you?" She asked.

"Long enough." I whispered out, barely able to speak any words at all. I couldn't believe any of this was happening. How did I end up in this situation? "You weren't suppose to know." I confessed. "Ever."

My mum gave me a horrified look before shaking her head. "No. No, I should have known. I should have known he has hurting you. I should have known his stories about a damn mold in the basement were a damn lie!" She yelled, kicking over an empty box that sat in the basement. "No, instead I find out from Zayn's aunt." She said, and my heart stopped as I heard the statement. "I found out from a stranger about this god awful thing happening under my own roof. To my son. My son!"

Zayn. Zayn told. He did the one thing he promised to never do. He told. He broke his promise to me. He told his aunt. That's why he was acting so distant. I didn't do anything wrong. Nothing at all. He did. He told.

"What did she tell you?" I questioned quietly, feeling the betrayal surge through me. The fact that he didn't trust me. He never did.

"Everything. Zayn told her you weren't eating, Liam." She asked, looking at me with fear in her eyes, and I was shaking in anger, shame, fear, and guilt. Angry that Zayn told all of my secrets. Shame for who I was. Fear about the future. And guilt for the way my mum was now so hurt. "Is that tr-ue?" She asked, a sob breaking up her words.

I looked down, not daring to look her in the eyes but not having the strength to lie anymore. This was the downfall of everything.

I heard her choke out another sob, knowing the answer to her question, and a tear ran down the side of my face, falling thick and heavily from the scape of my nose to the floor. "She also said... Zayn told her that you had burns. Bruises." She stated.

I flinched as I felt her hands touch my neck. They were cold and shaking as she ran them over the small scar where he held the knife to my throat, drawing the small amount of blood. Nothing compared to the pool that stained the basement floor.

"Let me see them." She requested, and I shook my head. "Liam, please. Baby, I just-"

"No!" I yelled, feeling all of the betrayal and hurt consume me as I began to cry heavily, my legs shaking as if I was going to collapse on myself. "No... I- I can't... y-you can't...." I looked up at her, seeing the pity she held in her eyes, and I broke.

I pulled out of her hold, dropping my backpack and running through the basement door, rushing to the front door and rushing out into the cold, frigid air. And I cried as I ran. Running to the place that I called safety until I realized it no longer was.

I stopped running, falling onto the grass and pulling my knees up to my chest, sobbing against my arms. My family was ruined now. My mum knew everything. My dad would go to jail. I would be safe, but... everything would change. My mum would be broken, looking at me and being reminded of a man she loved that committed a terrible misdeed. Looking at me and blaming herself for never seeing things as they truly were. I would be a stain of the broken home we had as if we were in a gothic novel and this was the big town secret.

And then I noticed the deep pain in my chest. The ache that only Zayn use to fix. Now... he was the cause.  
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I knocked on the door, feeling lifeless and emotional. The place I use to feel safe was now a house of betrayal.

"Liam? Oh thank goodness you're out of that house-" Colette began to say, but I pushed past her, rushing over to where I knew Zayn would be. I walked into the music room, seeing Zayn look up at the sudden intrusion and standing from the piano bench with a look of shame and pain.

"Why did you fucking tell her!?" I questioned, feeling like an unstable wreck. Everyone would know. The neighbors would see my dad get taken, then the trial would happen, and then everyone at school would have another reason to treat me like a lowlife.

"Liam... he made you bleed. He was threatening your life! I couldn't just sit back and let him take you away from me! I couldn't continue to keep your secret because you were being hurt, and you don't deserve to be hurt." He said, moving to walk toward me, but I stepped back, too engulfed in his betrayal and my pain to care about the broken look on his face at my rejection.

"You promised me." I spoke lowly, not able to fight the tears that pooled in my eyes. "You promised me, and you broke that promise!" I sobbed, looking at Zayn and feeling so much aching in my chest. The pain was like nothing ever before. It was like my heart was getting split in two.

"My mum looked at me... with pity. Like all she sees is a pathetic, broken thing! She knows everything, Zayn." I stressed, thinking about the last look on my mum's face before I ran out of the basement. "You told me last night that you would trust me. That you would wait." I reminded, feeling so heartbroken. "Did you... ever trust me, Zayn?" I croaked out, my voice cracking and breaking uncontrollably as I looked into his eyes. Those same eyes that made me feel like I was all that mattered. And I saw tears that mirrored my own.

"I trust you. I trust you more than anyone else, princess, but I couldn't just-"

"Don't call me that." I whimpered out, turning away from his watery eyes. I didn't want to see the way the windows in them seemed to shatter.

"I care about you... so much." He stressed, taking cautious steps toward me, and I felt myself shaking as I sobbed, aware of his aunt's presence in the room now. It didn't affect me, but Zayn's touch would. It would make me break completely, and I wasn't strong enough to pick up all of the pieces.

"No. No, you don't do this to someone you care about! You don't break up their family, make their mum see them as a wounded puppy, and you don't make them go through this much... pain! This much suffering!" I cried, my head spinning as I felt like a madman. "If you cared about me you would have kept our promise." I replied.

"I couldn't see you hurt anymore, Liam!" He retaliated, walking toward me, and then he was so close. So close that I could feel his body heat eventhough we weren't touching.

"Why not?" I questioned, whispering out the words as I looked into his eyes. And I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to see that emotion in his eyes. The same emotion I use to question and wonder what it was. Because if was clear now, but I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be.

"Because I love you." He confessed, and I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my face and the heavy breathing that now escaped me. His eyes softened, but they still held so much hurt as I shook my head, stepping away from him.

"No." I cried, covering my mouth as sobs wracked through my body. "Please don't say-"

"I love you, Liam. I don't... I don't know how it happened, but I do. And seeing you get hurt repeatedly... seeing you lie and hide your pain while having me hide it, too was too much. It hurt me to break my promise, but it hurt more to know that one day I could lose you because I chose to keep my mouth shut." He said, a certain determination in his tone.

I couldn't breath. I couldn't think. I was afraid. Terrified to admit anything. Terrified to feel too much. I wasn't use to love. It's been so long since I've experienced it. Hate. Hate I was use to; subjected to it every single day of my life.

"Liam, please say something." Zayn begged, eyes searching my face for any sort of validation to my feelings, but all I felt was alone. So alone and falling deeper into a pit of despair.

"Please, princess." He whispered out, lifting his hand to my cheek, and I hated the way I still leaned into the touch, feeling my headt shred into a million pieces at the fact that I didn't know how to love. He pressed a burning kiss to my forehead, and I let out another small whimper, feeling the sorrow eat away at me. And I knew I didn't trust Zayn. Not anymore.

It took all of my inner strength, every single ounce that I had left, to pull myself away from his touch. When I did, I saw the way he seemed to deflate, the look in his eyes being too much to bear witness to as I heard the small, choked sob he gave at my rejection. But this was all too much all too soon. It was an override of every negative emotion I've ever felt before.

"If you love me, then why are you hurting me?" I asked, seeing the stung look on his face before I turned, moving past his aunt again who tried to grab out to me, but I was too fast.

I heard Zayn chase after me, and I begged him to let me go as he pulled me to him, hugging me to his chest. And I felt his whole body shake as he clung to me like a frightened child; as if he was afraid to let me go.

"Y-you promised you wouldn't leave me." He managed to say between shaky breaths, and I hated the way it hurt to hear how I was tearing him apart. I hated the way I heard his heartbeating rapidly, remembering when he said I held it in my hands. I hated how good it felt to be in his arms. And I hated myself for pulling away from his touch.

"You promised you wouldn't tell. You promised you wouldn't hurt me." I reminded. He broke every promise he made to me. "You said I had the power to break you, Zayn. But... you also had the power to break me." I confessed. Then I turned away.

I ran out of the house, feeling my heart crumble to pieces with every single step I took away from the property. Away from the boy that I never knew completed me so much. At the one person I trusted the most. Feeling my heart shatter because of the look in his eyes that seemed to haunt me.

I ran all the way to the park, sitting under the shade of a tree and crying, hating the way I felt sorry for myself. I hated the look of pity and guilt in my mum's eyes. I hated the broken and hurt look in Zayn's eyes. And I hated how everything seemed to be crumbling because of all of this pain I felt.

All of the shame. All of the hurt. All of the guilt. And the doubt and the fear and the self-loathing and the feeling of being so, so useless to everyone around me. To everything I touched.

I never knew I could hate myself more than I already did.  
\------------------------------------------------------

It was dark out, and it was freezing. My hands were completely numb, but I didn't want to feel anything anyway. If only the inside could numb as well.

I thought about everything that happened today. The fact that my mum found out. It made me afraid to return home. What would I return to? Did my mum already call the cops, or was she reckless enough to confront my dad first? What would happen to our family? What would happen to my mum now? She just celebrated her anniversary with a man she thought she could love forever, and maybe she did still love him. How would that crush her?

And then Zayn. It seemed like he was a permanent stain in my mind; as well as a permanent break in my heart. The pain that I felt just thinking of him was immense, and it was only worse when I thought of the terrified look on his face as he basically begged me not to leave him. It seemed to be his worse fear. And I remembered how he said I had him. All of him. That I held his heart in my hands. And then I tore it all away.

I felt tears building in my eyes again, but I rubbed my eyes and stood up. I was walking around all day, aimlessly, feeling so low and broken up inside. I was afraid to go home, but I had nowhere else to go. Sure, Harry seemed nice enough, but I didn't want to burden him with my troubles. I didn't know him well enough, or rather he didn't know me well enough.

I knew I had to go home, so I began walking toward the direction of the house that held all of my horror story. I suppressed the shivers that threatened to rack through me as the cold night air blew against me, not seeming so inviting anymore. It was a constant reminder of what I couldn't be. Careless, weightless, free.

I saw my house in the distance a few moments later, but I also saw the flashing lights of blue and red sirens painted on the outside walls. And I saw the neighbors watching in curiosity as my dad stumbled out of the house in handcuffs, cursing at the police officers, and my mum followed out in tears.

"You!" My dad yelled as soon as he saw me, and I froze, seeing the pure rage in his eyes. He was clearly seeing red, and I knew he wanted to hurt me more than ever before. "You stupid fucking fag!" He cursed, fighting the officer's hold in attempt to reach me.

He escaped the hold for a few seconds, rushing toward me before two policemen held him back. He grunted at his attempts to reach me, and I was frozen in fear. "This is your fucking fault you little shit! You were the one acting like a damn whore, and you know you deserved it. Everything I gave you." He seethed, and I felt the tears build in my eyes again. "I never fucking loved you, and your mum will only pity you. I may be going to jail, but you'll be the one who'll always be haunted." He grinned evily, and then he was being shoved into a police car.

All of the people that gathered around in curiosity began to murmur to one another about what just took place, and I felt the humiliation rise. I couldn't handle it- being the talk of the town once more, for something worse than my sexuality to them.

I rushed to my house, feeling my mum grab my shoulder gently. "Liam, honey, I-" She began, and I spoke without looking at her.

"Do you still love him?" I questioned, hoping she would say no, but I think I knew. I knew how much they've been through together. My mum told me. She still yearned for that man she fell in love with.

"Yes." She confessed, and I ripped my arm free. "Liam, please just let me explain!" She cried, but I shook my head.

"Leave me alone." I managed to croak out before rushing to my room and slamming the door shut, locking it behind me. I fell onto my bed in tears, wishing the day never took place.

And as sleep overtook me, I realized that the flame finally won. It burned everything down in a mass of destruction, but the flame wasn't caused by anyone else... but myself.


	36. Yin-Yang

I woke up in fright as I felt someone touch my shoulder, shaking it slightly. I looked up to see my mum, staring at me with sad eyes, and I closed mine again, not having the strength to look at her. Everything was still so fresh from yesterday.

"Liam, school starts in twenty minutes." She informed, and I had completely forgotten about school. There was no way I could get ready and make it in time. I also wasn't ready to face the onslaught of new comments I would get due to last night's events. "But I thought you may want to just rest today. What do you think?" She questioned.

I knew what she was doing. She was playing her cards carefully in order to win me over again. But I couldn't forget how she told me she still loved me dad last night. Who could ever love such a monster? Where did that put me in the equation?

I laid there, motionless and silent, hoping she would take the hint that I wanted to stay home, but I also wasn't ready to speak with her. And I knew she realized that as she sighed, patting my arm before I felt her get off of the bed. "I'll call your school. I'm going to work soon, also. I'll be home around six tonight. Please take care of yourself, Liam." She said, but I still made no move to respond.

I heard her sigh again before she said "I love you." The door opened before shutting again behind her, and I let the tears flow free now. Waking up to realize everything that happened was real just hurt a thousand times worse. It was like all of the raw pain came back to consume me. It enveloped me in a sheet of misery that couldn't be removed no matter how hard I tugged and ripped at it.

I shoved my face into a pillow, letting out a scream of rage and despair. Everything hurt so much. I just wanted to go back. I wanted to be young again, six or seven, when my dad still wanted me. When my parents were happily in love, and I would hope to be just like them one day. Back before the man I looked up to decided to tear me down. Back before I was stupid enough to fall for my bully. Back before I was sure I was gay. Back when everything was simple and all I had to worry about was putting my shoes on the right foot. I wanted to be happy.

But I just wasn't.

The constant feeling that I fucked everything up kept gnawing at me; it was deep in the back of my mind. It was a thing I've heard ever since the age of eight years old. That it was my fault. That I deserved the pain. And then I became accustomed to it.

I dug my hands underneath the pillow, attempting to hug it close to me, but I froze as my fingers touched a cotton fabric. My heart ached like never before. It was as if it was being stabbed by a million icicles, freezing the blood in my veins. So cold that it hurt.

I grabbed onto the fabric before pulling it out from underneath the pillow, letting out a choked sob as I held Zayn's jacket in my hand. And I remembered what he said. He gave it to me to keep me warm, but I had no clue it would suffocate me like this.

I felt like I couldn't breathe as I held the jacket, not until I hugged it close and inhaled the scent. That sweet and familiar scent that was Zayn. And I realized that his scent was all around me. From the window sill, to my closet, to my restroom, to my bed sheets, even on my skin. And I felt a small sense of calmness consume me before it hit. All of the sorrow.

I didn't want to be reminded of him. He was an addiction that I couldn't seem to let go of. Something I had for so long that made me feel good, all I had to make me feel good, and it was taken away. I took it away.

My stomach rumbled, and I realized that I was slowly getting use to eating. After all of the times he made me eat, encouraging me, being by my side whenever I had the slightest break down. But I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve... love. I didn't deserve anything. So I ignored the feeling of hunger, just like I use to. It seemed like promises were already being broken anyway.

I yelled in anger, throwing the jacket as far away from me as possible. I didn't want any reminders of him, but they seemed to be everywhere. I smelled him against my bed sheets, I pictured him at my window, I thought of his arms wrapped around me, I even saw him when I closed my eyes.

The pain was too strong. It hurt so much, and I felt myself slowly going insane. I tugged at my hair, whimpering in pain and letting a few teardrops slip out and roll down my cheeks. I had a massive headache from crying, but I couldn't seem to stop. It was terrifying how everything could be flipped upside down in a day.

Then I thought about Zayn. How it scared me to watch him tug at his hair as if he was trying to rip hair out to bleed. He did that for years after what his dad did to him. He hurt himself, but I couldn't hurt myself. Not when I knew it hurt to know he did the same. And I hated him for taking that way out away from me, but I was also grateful.

Then I thought of what he told me. That he loved me. And just thinking of the words made my breathing pick up and my heart race as if it was fighting to rip out of my chest. Because I wasn't worthy of love. I was a complete mess. I didn't know how to love. I didn't know what love felt like, but it terrified me to think that love was what I felt whenever I was around Zayn. That the ache in my heart every time he spoke was that four lettered word that could make or break a person.

I couldn't love him. He couldn't love me. I couldn't just fall in love with the person who made my life a living hell in school for years. He treated me like crap because he was afraid of himself, but I... I couldn't help but long for him. It was a torturous and agonizing reality.

I looked back over to where I threw the jacket, longing for the boy who broke my heart. The betrayal that I felt constantly nagged me. How I've never trusted anyone before him. And the one person I did trust lied to me. Brought all of this pain and guilt and shame and heartbreak to me, yet also brought me safety.

I grabbed the jacket off of the floor before holding it to my chest, letting out a shaky breath as tears began to pour again, and I realized the painful truth, but it wouldn't fix a thing. It wouldn't fix the hole in my heart now. It wouldn't fix my mum's changed perspective of me. It wouldn't change what the town thought. It wouldn't change my father's hatred. It wouldn't change the betrayal I felt. It wouldn't change the trust I lost. It wouldn't change a thing, no, it would only add on to the pain.

"I love you, too." I sobbed, gripping the jacket close to me so tightly that my knuckles turned white.  
\------------------------------------------------------

ZAYN

I couldn't think at all. The only thing my mind has revolved around all day was Liam. I was worried sick, even though I was feeling so much self-doubt at his rejection. I still loved him. I didn't even know when I started to fall, but I knew that I felt it.

He was all I could think about during classes. It worried me that he wasn't in class, but I knew he would probably be at home. Because he was so broken down. I wanted to visit him, but I knew he needed his time.

Seeing how much pain he was in yesterday hurt me like nothing I've ever experienced. Knowing that those tears in his eyes were because of me... it made me question if what I did was the right thing to do. I knew it was. It had to be because his dad was finally getting what he deserved and Liam could be safe, but it felt so wrong to lie to him.

I thought back to our last kiss together. Our last night was full of kisses, and I treated each one as if it would be our last because I knew it just might be. I knew he would be upset at what I planned to do, but I didn't expect for him to spiral into such a deep and dark pit of agony. He seemed on the edge all of the time, and it was only a matter of time before he jumped off of the cliff.

Or maybe I pushed him off.

"Hey, sweetheart." My aunt's voice drifted into the room, and she walked over to me, setting down a cup of tea on top of the piano. "How are you holding up, dear?" She asked, moving over to sit by me.

"I lost him." I said, feeling the nails that dug into my heart at the truthful words. I lost him. The only person I've ever loved was gone. He pushed me away, and he ran away. "And he took every single part of me." I confessed, feeling the stinging of my eyes that has been going on since seeing how distraught Liam was yesterday. And I was a sobbing mess as my aunt enveloped me in a hug.

"Oh, my sweet little Zayniebird." She cooed, using my childhood nickname, and I sobbed against her shoulder, trying to gain strength from this amazing woman that always seemed to be by my side. "You did the right thing, honey." She concluded, running her hand through my hair soothingly. "Liam will see that eventually."

"But what if he doesn't?" I asked, pulling back from her touch. "What if he goes on with the rest of his life hating me? What if he never trusts me again? What if he never talks to me or even so much as looks at me again? What if what I've done will pain him forever? I can't live with that!" I cried. "I can't live with him hating me again!" I yelled, slamming down on the piano keys, and my aunt gently took my hands away, holding both of them between hers.

"He was the boy wasn't he?" She asked, and I closed my eyes as she continued speaking. "The boy you told your mum about? The one who was kind to you without even realizing how much you needed help?" She said, and I nodded, knowing my mum told her everything. They were close that way.

My mum told her what I said, but my mum didn't know what I was hiding. I told her I was crying because I was nervous to present in class, but that was a lie. I was crying because that morning I woke up only to look in the mirror and see the bruises of my father's fingerprints on my hips. The fingerprints he left from holding me down and keeping me quiet.

"She told me to just be nice to him...." I trailed off, feeling ashamed of myself for the part of me that I was going to divulge to my aunt.

"But you weren't." She concluded, and I nodded, not able to look at her anymore.

"I... I bullied him. I hurt him everyday. I gave him bruises, so many bruises, just like his dad gave him. I broke up whatever spirit he still had left in him, and I turned Louis into that person as well." I confessed, feeling so guilty for everything I've ever done. "I called him so many names. I- I bullied him because he was gay, but I... I am, too." I cried out, feeling so much self-loathing. I hated myself and everything I was. "I love him." I added in a whimper, feeling my aunt squeezed my even tighter into her hug.

"It wasn't right, Zayn. It wasn't right, and you should feel guilty, but you also have the right to forgive yourself. Your actions didn't go unpunished, not in the slightest, dear, because the universe has a funny way of punishing. You need to realize who you are, sweetheart. Because once you know who you are, you can let others in completely."

She pressed a kiss to my forehead before patting my shoulder and standing from the piano bench. "Just give it time. Love takes time." She motioned to the tea she was leaving for me, but I didn't want it. No, all I wanted was to drown myself in alcohol in hopes of numbing this pain, but I couldn't. If I broke one promise and hurt the person I loved, I could keep one that hurt myself instead.

As soon as my aunt closed the door, I was breaking down again. I didn't ask to fall in love with him. I never planned to, and maybe his life would be easier without me, but I didn't want to imagine my life without him. I told him before that I wanted what I couldn't have. I got that. But I ruined it.

I looked down at the keys in front of me, a mesh of black and white, and I realized that was us. That was who Liam and I were. A mesh of black and white.

Liam was so pure. So perfect to me. He held a certain light to him, and I welcomed it into my life hesitantly, but I only managed to soil it. He was the white. And I was the black. I ruined what little miracle we found in each other, but it was all I could do. I think I depended too heavily upon him, but I still didn't want to give it up. I was still leaving bruises on him, maybe not on the outside, but the inside must be aching with every touch. Until our mesh of black and white blurred the lines into a grey.

I kicked at the piano, hearing the dull twinge the keys gave, and I left the room, walking quickly to my own room and locking the door shut behind me. I sat on my bed, and I looked over at my nightstand, my song book lay on its surface. That was when I gave Liam every piece of me.

I grabbed it, running my fingers over the plain cover, and I thought of Liam. Every little thing about Liam.

I thought about the moment I realized I had a crush on him. Fifth grade. I would watch him eat lunch with whatever friend he had then, smiling and laughing, but I noticed how reserved his actions were. It was like he carefully calculated everything, afraid to mess anything up, and I smiled slightly as I realized he was still very much the same today.

I thought about the first time I hurt him in middle school. How it all started. One little comment from a person I thought was my friend about how much of a weird-o he was. And I felt shame in myself for ever hurting him just to try and fit in. To try and fight away the thoughts I had as everyone else laughed along and commented insulting things about him while I just stared.

I thought he was beautiful even then, barely flowering into the human being he is today. His hair wasn't as long, but it was still styled in a way that made me curious as to how it would feel to run my fingers through it. His lips were the pinkest I've ever seen, and I should have been disgusted about the multiple times I was tempted to kiss them, imaging how they would feel upon my own, but I wasn't... and that made me hate myself more.

I remembered the word I carved into my skin. Sin. The one label that stuck around with me all my life. I denied my emotions. I denied who I liked. I denied all of my morals, but I could never deny the fact that I was a walking, breathing, living sin.

I closed my eyes as every single moment I spent with Liam seemed to play back through my mind. The times we spent alone when I would have given anything to kiss him. How angry I was that Drew even dared to lay a finger on him. How jealous I was when I thought Drew would be a romantic interest in his life. The way he never let me in easily, never became a fool for me, but I became one for him. I became a mad man for him.

I thought about the countless amount of times I held him as he fell asleep in my arms, beautiful and carefree in his slumber. Almost as if he had no worries. The hours I would spend awake at night just tracing my fingers over the contours of his face, unable to believe someone so heavenly could exist. I never believed he was mine. No matter how many times he said it, I knew a part of him couldn't let go of our past, but I didn't blame him. I never said a word because all that mattered was holding him in that moment and seeing him like no one else could.

I looked down at my bed sheets, remembered the night in the garden. How we laid underneath the stars, simply speaking for the first time without any barriers. Because he knew all of me, and I knew as much as I needed to know of him. And I wanted to tell him then. That I loved him, but I saw the fear in his eyes. I knew my words hurt him, and I never wanted to hurt him.

I felt the pain in my heart sharpen as all of the memories played through. The eyes that always held so much care and fear. The ones that were a gorgeous brown, stabilizing me just like the earth underneath my feet. The lips that quickly became my drug. The only medicine I needed to survive through anything. Addictively sweet and a heavenly sin. The voice that was as soft and careful as the wind. Always speaking loud enough for my ears only. Confessing secrets nobody else knew. And the feeling of him in my arms. A common warmth that managed to set my insides on fire by the mere touch of his skin.

And my mind drifted to the remainder of that night. How absolutely stunning he looked underneath me as I did my best to give him the pleasure he deserved. How my heart ached and my lips threatened to pour out my confession of love to him at that moment, but I held it in, afraid to scare him away when he was already risking so much.

And I fell even deeper. I can't believe I ever denied myself the truth. It was agonizing. Every single second of it. The pain of staying away from him was immense, but it was nothing compared to what I was feeling now as I looked down at my jacket, seeing the creases from where Liam had to fold it back to fit it.

And I let out a sob, feeling every single memory fuel the pain. And it wasn't just the memory of Liam. It was everything. Every single painful moment, every manipulative moment, every moment where I've messed up.

And I craved alcohol. I knew where it was. But the constant thought of Liam made me hold myself back. Even if I was slowly going insane without it. I have never felt pain as I did in the moment, craving to just hold Liam in my arms.

"You promised you wouldn't leave." I cried out, looking down at my jacket again and wondering how he was. How hurt was he? Was he thinking about me just as much as I was thinking about him?

I let out a small yell, craving the intoxication that would numb everything out. I thought I numbed myself from the world, from feeling, but then Liam came around.

I felt the tears begin to wrack through my body as I realized that I would rather feel this pain and disappointment than to never have felt what I feel with Liam.

"Tell me what to do?" I cried out, clenching my jaw as I did my nest to suppress the pain, but it was suffocating me. "I'm so sorry, mum. Please tell me what to do." I begged, crying into my arms and tugging at my hair at all of the memories that played through my mind like the most torturous film. The memories I had to live with fort he rest of my life, my only relief being my princess.

I was also remembering how she use to guide me. She would help me when I fell, but nobody could help me now. No one but myself.

I thought about the scars on my wrists and arms. The scars on my thighs and waist. The word carved into my skin. And I thought about how I gave that up. I had the strength to give it up. I didn't have the strength to give up Liam.

So I wouldn't. No matter how much pain I felt, how it seemed to cripple my body and paralyze me in torment, I knew one thing.

I couldn't give up someone who completed me.


	37. Help

I jumped awake from my nightmare, still able to feel the panic and fear that it seared into me. I saw my dad's face over and over again, telling me how he would hurt Zayn, how he would hurt my mum, how he would hurt me. And I felt pure terror at the fact that I would still have to see him at the court hearing; then every night in my nightmares.

I clung onto Zayn's jacket, trying to salvage any bit of protection it offered, but it felt cold. So cold without the person here that the jacket belonged to. And that thought brought it all back. All of the fear was washed away, leaving nothing but the paralyzing pain that shot through my body like a double barreled shot gun.

And I yelled out in pain, feeling like someone dug their hand into my chest and ripped away freely at my heart, mangling and shredding it to pieces as if it was nothing but litter on the ground. My yell was only interrupted as a sob ripped through my throat, making me scratch at my face in a newfound blistering torture.

Nobody was home. I knew nobody was home, and the realization brought on a loneliness that shook me to my core. My worst fear was coming true, and I didn't know how to react. I couldn't function, and it felt as if all of my breathing was cut off.

I gasped for breath in between sobs, scratching at my own skin and hugging the jacket as close as possible, feeling my whole body shake in its agony. I couldn't focus my vision on anything and knowing that only proved to make me freak out even more, losing a grasp on reality, yet not fixing a single thing the reality came with.

I saw that it was dark outside, too dark. My mum should have been back by now.

Maybe she didn't want me. Maybe I caused her enough trouble. Maybe she ditched me; left while she could. Maybe my dad was right. He was right, and I was worthless. I was alone. Always alone. Alone - just like I left Zayn alone.

I sat up in bed, trying to focus on anything, anything at all to suppress the massive amounts of pain that were flooding through me as if the dam wall had barely broken. The waters were rushing in futile attempts to put out the fires I set, but they were already spiraling out of control.

I was spiraling out of control.

I felt my breathing turn to pants as I struggled to cling on to any bit of sanity. The dream crashed through my mind again, colliding along with all of my mistakes and moments of weakness. All of it led me to this moment, and maybe I deserved it.

My vision became blurry as I felt myself fading in and out of consciousness, breathing quickly and feeling warm tears run along the expanse of my cheeks. There was nothing I could do but panic... until I heard the window open and quickly felt two arms wrap around me.

"Shit, Liam." I heard the voice that I loved fill the room, and it only caused me even more pain. The betrayal played over and over in my mind mixed with the fear of my father's threats. He would kill Zayn, and he would kill me.

"Go... away!" I panted out, feeling myself topple off the edge of sanity. There was nothing I could do about it. It was like my mind wouldn't listen to me. The emotions took over. The fear, pain, shame, anger, torment, and love. They crashed against one another as if they were riding the rapids.

Still, I couldn't find it in myself to deny how wonderfully torturous it felt to be wrapped in his arms again. It warmed up my insides, but I could hardly take enjoyment from it at all.

"Breathe for me. I need you to breathe." Zayn requested, trying to speak calmly, but I heard the panic rise in his voice as well. "Please, Liam. You're having a panic attack. I need you to breathe, princess. Please breathe." He said, and I did.

I breathed in and out, inhaling breath after breath of his familiar scent. The same scent that kept me grounded. It gave me a sense of security and care. And I found myself gripping onto him, attempting to keep him close even though I knew I needed him to be far away.

"That's it. That's good. Please breathe for me. I need you to breathe, baby." He whispered as he began to rock our bodies back and forth. Touching him in that moment made the tears pour like never before. It felt as if a flame was being pressed to my heart; a branding of Zayn's name that burned me from the inside out. It was a terrible sting.

My breathing came back, and I slowly took in the scene I was in. Both of us were rested in the middle of my bed. I was on Zayn's lap, arms wrapped around his shoulders and fingers desperately digging into the feel of the leather jacket. His arms were wrapped tightly around my waist in a protective vice as he whispered out words to try and keep me calm, and I should have pushed him away, but I couldn't. There was too big a part of me that wanted to value the moment we had together. A part of me hoped that the bliss would linger.

"You told... when you weren't supposed to." I whimpered out, the wound fresh in my mind. My voice showed rejection and hurt, but my actions spoke the opposite as I pulled him closer, not wanting him to stay but needing it in this moment. "You broke your promise." I cried against his shoulder, his scent being enough to worsen the tears.

"I know." He simply stated. "I know, and I know I hurt you. I hate seeing you cry, and this... seeing you this way is killing me." He mumbled out, and I shivered at the slight feel of his lips against the side of my neck.

"You lied to me." I said, continuing to remind myself of the trust I lost. i heard Zayn give an intake of breath as he let out a small nod.

"Have you ever had a panic attack before?" He asked gently, using that same tone he always use to use. The tone that seemed to handle me as if I was a fragile piece of glass waiting to be dropped.

Too bad I already came crashing down.

I didn't answer the question. It was almost as if I didn't hear the question. The only thing on my mind was the inner turmoil that came along with his touch, his scent, and his voice. It all seemed to work together into a dark lullaby. A gruesome fairytale.

"You lost my trust." I announced, feeling the way he clenched his jaw and let out a deep breath at my words.

"I know. And it's the worst thing I've ever done." He confessed in a strained voice. "Liam, have you ever had a panic attack before?" He repeated the question, as if he was desperate for an answer, but I wasn't focused on that. I was too consumed in the hurt.

"You could have at least told me that you were-" I began, feeling Zayn push me to arm's length so that he was looking into my eyes as he asked again.

"Have you ever had a panic attack before this, Liam?" He managed go get out, and I was shocked at his appearance. He looked paler than usual, as if sleep was never even an option for him the night before. His eyes held tears just like mine, but where mine were still puffy and tired looking his were bloodshot and stressed. He didn't look happy. He seemed to be in pain, just like I was, and I hated seeing it.

I gulped and shook my head. "No." I whispered out, seeing the way his shoulder slumped even more than they already were at my answer.

"So, I... I caused this." He said. It wasn't a question, but that was fine by me because I couldn't give an answer.

I didn't know what caused it. It could have been Zayn hurting me in this way, it could have been my dad's threats, it could have been the nightmare playing on repeat, it could have been my mum not being here right now, or it could have been everything. Everything pressing down on me as if I wasn't already drowning.

"I should hate you..." I breathed out, trailing off after the words came out. I was too afraid to confess the truth. His eyes were too upset and intimidating as he stared into my own. So I looked down for a second before I felt his fingers, as cold as ice, lifting my chin so I was looking at him again.

"You don't hate me." He said it as a statement, but I saw the questioning look in his eyes. There was always a certain insecurity with Zayn; something only I saw. It hid behind the mass of emotions he now poured onto me, deep within him lived that small voice. It seemed so big to him just as it did to everyone else who suffered the same way.

"No. I can't." I confessed, my eyes rebuilding more tears, and the look in Zayn's eyes was too much as they traveled down to look at my lips. He looked back up as I let out a sob, missing him yet needing him to go away. It was the worst feeling ever.

My heart froze in pure terror as I saw the familiar look in his eyes. The mixture of adoration, affection, lust, every beautiful emotion collected into one. And I squeezed my eyes shut as Zayn began to speak. "Liam, I love y-"

"Why did you have to ruin everything!?" I shouted, not wanting to hear the words that I didn't deserve to hear. He was suffering just as badly as I was, and I knew it seemed like an easy fix, but I couldn't trust him anymore. I couldn't help but look at him and see someone who betrayed me; my mum's disappointment.

"I wanted you safe. I needed you safe. I couldn't stand seeing you get hurt." He reasoned, looking at me if he never wanted to let me go; as if it was the first and last time he's seen me. It was such a tender feeling.

"If you told me something that you've never told anyone else, if you told me to keep a secret, I would do it. I would do it without a moment of hesitation." I pushed back, feeling so damn low inside.

"Yeah? What if I knew you this well during the time my dad was hurting me? Would you continue to let him do what he did?" He asked, and I was silent. I didn't want to imagine it. It was far worse than my situation.

He nodded at my silence, and I saw the tears finally pour down his face. "Exactly. Because when you care about someone like we care about each other, you only want them happy." He stated, and I was a crying mess as well as he gave out a sob before continuing. "And when you love someone as much as I do, you'd give anything to protect them. Even their trust."

He looked me right in the eyes, complete sincerity shining through them with that small mixture of gloom. And hearing the words made everything inside of me collapse again. Maybe I was afraid to be loved.

"I hate that you feel that way." I cried, feeling so, so tired of crying, but the tears felt endless. It was as if the bridges I've been holding up all poured away into rushing rivers. "I hate it!" I sobbed, pounding on his chest as he pulled me close again.

I wanted to hate him. I couldn't. So I hated the words instead. I hated the words, but I couldn't deny how much I've longed for them. It was an awfully terrifying thing.

"Shh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I feel this way, but I can't stop." He whispered, and I felt the way he gripped at my clothing just as I did to his. "I said I couldn't have you once, and this just proves that. I hurt you too much to have you." He spoke in a broken voice.

I didn't want that to be true, but I've said it myself. We would always hurt each other. Maybe that would only tear us apart.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"-and we could've had a little house. It would've been anywhere you wanted. On a hill, by the ocean, on the other side of the world if you wished." I heard Zayn say. I kept my eyes closed, not even remembering falling asleep, but I wanted to keep this moment forever.

He spoke in a broken voice. One that should have been happy, but it held so much sadness, and I felt each word create another hole in my heart as I realized what he was talking about.

"I mean," he laughed a pitiful laugh, "you were the first person I thought I had a future with. You were all I wanted... even before I knew I wanted you." He confessed gently, and I took in a breath as I felt his fingers slowly trace the contours of my face. They were delicate and smooth, gliding along as easy as silk. And I fought to keep tears in and my eyes closed, fighting the longing to see his beautiful eyes.

"You are my first love, princess. You'll probably be my only love, but I know we're not good for each other. I- I'm not good for you, and I wish I was. Every day I wish I listened to my mum; treated you nicely. I wish I did everything differently. I wish I spoke to you differently, I wish I acted differently, I wish I treated you differently... but I don't wish I fell in love differently." He confessed, and I felt his lips press a kiss to my forehead.

"God, I love you so much it hurts." He cried out a bit, wrapping his arm around my waist and resting his forehead against mine. I suppressed all of my emotions, desperately wanting to tell him I felt the same way, but it would only hurt more if I did. Besides, the words wouldn't come out.

I allowed the silence to fall over us for awhile before I decided to 'wake up', giving out a fake yawn as I did. I opened my eyes to see that Zayn's were already searching mine. I didn't know what he was looking for, but I knew I enjoyed the beautiful splash of colors in his eyes.

"It felt like I was dying." I commented, thinking back to the panic attack I had. I've never experienced anything like it. It felt like I didn't have control of a single one of my senses until Zayn showed up. All I knew was that everything currently scared me. Pure terror like a lost little kid.

"You're okay. I would never let anything happen to you." He said, and those words broke the calm little world we were in. I shook my head as I sat up in bed, backing away from him and watching as he sat up as well, disappointment filling his eyes.

"But you did." I said, looking away from him. "You shouldn't be here. I shouldn't want you to stay here." I said, scolding myself in the process. I was letting my guard down again. But I was also angry at myself for continuing to push him out of my life. Why did I feel the need to hide away when someone finally loved me?

"Liam, I can't just leave you after that. I can't just stay away from you. I need you. You know I need you; we need each other. And I'm sorry for how much I hurt you. Not just by telling your secret but everything before that. I know how much I hurt you, and I don't deserve to be able to hold you, not even in the slightest. But, fuck, I fell helplessly in love with you, and I don't want to lose this feeling." He said, looking desperately into my eyes.

"I can't." I whispered out, tears spilling down my cheeks in warm, heavy tracks. "I c-can't do this." I begged, wanting him to just relieve the pain, but I knew it would remain here whether he stayed or left.

"You can. I know you can because I know how strong you are." Zayn said, attempting to reach out for me, but I pulled away. I couldn't fall into his hold again. Everything would surely snap.

"P-please leave." I begged, feeling the bit of panic building up inside of me again.

"Okay." His voice broke as he spoke the word, but he got up from the bed, walking toward the window. My heart ached as I remembered the first time he came through the window, the first time he found out about my dad, the first time he kissed ms, the first time we escaped through that same window to his house. And then he spoke up again.

"Please go to school tomorrow." He stated, not begging but not making it a demand either. He sounded helpless. "I miss you so much, Liam." He confessed before finally slipping out of the window.

I sat on my bed, feeling myself drowning in my tears. I punched my bed sheet and sniffled, reaching back under my pillow, feeling pathetic for needing his jacket again. But my heart froze in a searing pain as I didn't feel the familiar cotton.

I felt leather.

I pulled out the jacket, thinking about how Zayn left out of the window in a white t-shirt, no jacket on top. My panic made me miss that detail.

I pulled the jacket close to my chest, inhaling the familiar scent of Zayn that sent a numbing ache to my heart. And a part of me felt even more complete while another felt even more crushed.

I thought about his request for me to go to school tomorrow and my stomach churned in a weird way at the thought of wearing his jacket, but that couldn't be why he left it.

I laid down with it, keeping it close to me as I pulled the covers over me. I heard the distant sound of the front door opening, knowing my mum was barely arriving home. I heard her heels click on down the hall, coming closer, and I closed my eyes.

The door opened, and shd sighed as she saw me. I heard her come closer before she gently caressed my cheek. "I'm so sorry, Liam. I'm going to be the best mum I can be, love." She whispered, pressing a soft kiss go my forehead before walking back to the door and out of my room.

I felt another tear slip from my eyes, but I quickly wiped it away before snuggling the jacket close to me and attempting to fall asleep.

My final thought was that maybe if fire could destroy, it could also mend and create.

But how do you mend a broken heart?


	38. Ineffable

I never went to the lunch room. I ignored Zayn and Louis today, doing my best to not think about my situation at home, but that proved to be difficult when everyone now knew at school. Word traveled fast in a small town, and I was feeling the backlash of it all. The thing that surprised me was that nobody was being mean about it.

Several people actually apologized to me, and I shrugged it off, saying it was okay when it really wasn't. It's not like their one moment of guilt would suddenly make their years of ill wash away. Their personalities were simply ugly, but I understood the need of conformity. It was an easy way to survive.

I leaned against the fence behind the school, too afraid to go to the lunch room. I knew the dangers of being left alone, but I couldn't being myself to sit at a table with Louis and Zayn and pretend everything was fine when nothing really was. Going to the lunch room meant having another panic attack, and I truly didn't want to feel that way ever again. It really did feel like I was dieing, and the last thing people would remember about me is that I was beaten down by the whole world, including my own dad. What a legacy.

"Thought you'd be back here." I heard a voice say. My head snapped up from where I was staring at the ground, and I didn't feel fear as I saw Drew standing there. It was hard to feel much of anything besides pain these days.

"If you're going to hit me, just do it. I won't fight." I said, lifting up my knees and resting my head on them, staring down at the blades of grass as I let a few slip through my fingers. There wasn't much to do back here.

"I'm not going to hit you." I heard Drew sigh before I felt him take a seat beside me. I tensed up, being cautious of his character. "Is it true? What everyone's saying?" He questioned, and I groaned, hitting my forehead against my knees as I answered.

"That the poor little gay boy had a bad life at home as well? That my own dad seemed to hate me as well? That the collection of bruises on my skin didn't just happen at school?" I threw at him, looking up to see the way the words leaving my mouth seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah. That." He said, looking away from me in his awkwardness. I had no idea why he was even here talking to me.

"What do you think?" I asked, maybe a bit rudely, but I didn't care. I knew I was being harsh, but my version of harsh was nothing compared to his. He lied to me about being my friend, giving me a sliver of hope only to pull it all away. It was like baiting a fish on a hook.

"I think it's wrong." He said, finally turning back to me, and I scoffed as I shook my head in disbelief. I didn't need another guilty apology. Especially not from him.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to your shit. I've gotten the 'I'm sorry' speech from everyone today. Do you all honestly think it matters whether or not I get compensation for this? Because it already fucking happened. Where were the false ass apologies before you all found out that Liam Payne really is as weak as you thought he was?" I argued, standing up to walk away, but I felt him grab onto my hand.

"I really did want to be your friend when we first met." Drew said, and for some reason that pissed me off even more.

I turned to him, not able to hold back as my fist swung across his face, landing a punch right on his cheek. His head sprung sideways at the impact, and he stumbled back a bit, his hand instantly moving to rub against the wounded area.

"Shit, Payne." He mumbled out, groaning in a bit of pain, and all I thought about was how I've never actually hit anyone before. Never out of my full rage like that. So I began to panic.

I just hit someone. Just like they use to hit me. Just like my dad use to hit me. I didn't think about the morality of it, I just swung. And I never wanted to be someone to hurt others - no matter how bad they hurt me.

I sunk to the ground, my knees being pulled up to my chest again as I held my head in my hands, tugging at the chair as every hit and punch I've ever taken seemed to consume me. It was as if they were replaying as punches to the chest, knocking all of my breath away.

"Liam?" I heard Drew ask in a concerned voice, but it seemed so distant. "Hey, it's fine, man. I deserved it." He assured, sitting down in front of me, and I looked up at him, shocked that he wasn't instantly swinging back at me.

"Look, I really did want to be your friend when we met in detention. I did. I was completely real with you at that moment. And when Zayn told me you were... um-"

"Gay." I deadpanned, not liking the story so much.

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking down in a bit of shame. "When he told me you were gay, it became this problem for me." He admitted.

"Why? What does my sexuality change about me as a person? I like guys, big whoop." I said, refraining from the fact that right now there was only one guy on my mind, but I was too afraid to even sit at a lunch table with him.

"Nothing. It was more me than it was you." He said, rambling nonsense aloud. It only proved to confuse me.

"You're not really making any sense, Drew." I sighed, feeling overwhelmed and tired of everything. It wasn't a nice feeling at all. I just wanted to get to the point of the story. Of why he despised me.

"It's not like I'm confessing some sort of secret love to you because I'm not, but it's just..." He took a deep breath before continuing. "When I was thirteen, my dad left my mum. For a guy." He said, and I wanted to make a snarky comment about how that had nothing to do with me, but I knew he needed to continue.

"I thought my parents were so in love, you know? I think a lot of people think that, but it's an illusion before your eyes that, once shedded, makes you question what love is. Because if my dad can leave my mum for a guy, was he ever in love with her in the first place?" He questioned, and I shrugged.

"Ever heard of bisexuality? Or people finding their true selves later on in life?" I commented, feeling slightly frustrated. "And if you hated me just because your dad walked out on your mum, then that's complete bullshit." I added, looking him right in the eyes. That seemed to make him angry as well.

"Yeah? Well he left me, too." He said, seeming to get emotional at the thought, so I quieted down again. "You know, he promised me he'd still be around. Birthday parties and school meets, holidays and summer vacation. I got none of that. No, instead his new boyfriend or whatever decided to move all the way to America. And my dad didn't hesitate to accept. To just leave me behind." He said in disbelief. I knew he couldn't believe it, even after all these years.

"And then I struggled with my own sexuality." He confessed, and I listened intently. "I knew I liked girls. I always have, but the thought of him finding out something so vital so late in life scared me. Because what if I did the exact same thing he did? What if I left my child the way he left me? What if I told two people I loved them more than anything only to turn over a new leaf and start a new life as if they didn't exist?" He questioned, and I saw where that could be confusing. I understood the fear.

"I know who I am now. I know I'm straight, but I've never forgiven what he's done. Not that he apologized." He admitted. "To top it all off, he left us without any way for income. My mum didn't have a job. She had no clue how to even work. He parents sheltered her, her whole life. Told her to marry a loving man and have a family. That's what she did, until he left."

"So, we moved in with my grandparents. We struggled, my mum trying to find any job available as I tried as well. It led to plenty of fallouts between the two of us, lots of fighting and hatred, but we're okay now. We have a good life now, and moving here was suppose to be a new start. But I just can't forgive my dad. It's too hard." He said. "So, I'm sorry. I took it out on you because the pent up hatred for him was all I could think about."

We sat in silence for awhile, and I thought about everything he just confessed. I also thought about how to respond. Should I be angry? Should I be disappointed in him? Should I be the bigger person? I didn't know.

I sighed before finally speaking. "I guess I get why you felt so angry. Who wouldn't be? But that doesn't give you a right to take it out on whoever. It's your dad you need to settle this with. Find a way to talk to him and let him know what he's done. That doesn't mean explode at him, but at least tell him how he's made you feel. And I'm sorry about what happened, but I don't think we can just... be friends." I admitted.

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that. And that's okay. Maybe I was a bit more ambitious. Maybe I was hoping for an opportunity to get to fix things, but I completely understand." He said, standing up and offering me a hand to get up as well.

I accepted it.

He pulled me to my feet, and we shared a smile, knowing that even if we weren't on friendship terms, we were okay.

"Hey, get the fuck away from him!" I heard someone yell. I turned to see Zayn rushing toward the two of us, Louis trailing behind him. Louis stopped beside me, but Zayn walked right up to Drew, not even thinking before getting into his personal space. "Don't you ever fucking touch him. I will ruin you." He threatened, and I shook my head, swallowing my fear and reaching out for Zayn's hand.

"It's okay. We're okay now." I said calmly, pulling him back over to me, but his eyes never left Drew- a glare that could definitely kill a man if it was a weapon. "Zayn, he was apologizing." I whispered, trying to get him to calm down as I felt the rage he had stored up in the way his hand shook in my hold.

"I don't trust him. I just don't want you hurt anymore." He said, his eyes shifting from anger to utter adoration. I couldn't take the look in his eyes, so I looked down at the ground. I knew I was afraid of everything that Zayn confessed to me, I was afraid of admitting his love as well as my own.

"I know." I simply said. And I felt breathless as his hand lifted my chin until I was looking at him. The look of love in his eyes made my heart sputter and thump like nothing I've ever experienced before. "Zayn..." I trailed off, not knowing what I really wanted to say.

"I miss you." He confessed, and I was a bit shocked that he was acting this way in front of Louis and Drew. It made me even more afraid.

"I... I don't-" I began, and he cut me off with a sad smile.

"It's okay. I know you're hurting right now, princess. But I am constantly worrying about you. I just want you to be okay." He said, meaning every word. I knew he meant it because his eyes didn't lie. His emotions didn't lie.

The bell sounded through the school, and I jumped in fright, looking back at Louis and Drew, almpst forgetting they were there in my hypnotic stance. I looked at Zayn and shook my head. "I have to go to class." I mumbled before turning and walking away, fully aware of the fact that I was trying to run from my problems and my feelings.

The thing was, I didn't know if Zayn was a problem or my solution.  
\------------------------------------------------------

I was laying in bed, having no motivation for school work, but my teachers seemed to want to go easy on me anyway. I didn't like the pity I was getting, but I guess it helped while I felt numb and empty.

"Liam, you have a friend here to visit." My mum said after giving a small knock on my door, and I never replied. I heard her sigh before saying, "You can go on in." I heard her footsteps disappear before the door opened up to reveal Louis.

I sat up with a raised eyebrow. "How did you know where I lived?" I questioned. It was honestly a surprise to even see him here.

"I talked to Zayn." He answered, and the name sent a tidal wave of emotions washing over me. I never knew how to react.

I sat silently as Louis seemed to observe my room, looking around with interest at everything. I remembered when Zayn first came - it was a nightmare - but overtime he managed to be the one thing that took the nightmares away. I found myself wanting to ask why he was here, but I didn't have to.

"Why did you two never tell me you were a thing?" He asked, looking at me with a curious look in his eyes. And I didn't really know how to answer. I didn't know if it was my fear, Zayn's fear, or a mixture of both.

"We... weren't. Not really, anyway. Nothing was ever official." I said, laying back down on my bed. I didn't really care about labels - at least I didn't use to - but I wasn't so sure now. Maybe a label would have made everything different.

"Really? That's not the way Zayn felt, and judging by the way he casually leaft this here," He said, holding up the leather jacket that I left on the post of my bed, "you were something special to him."

"Give me that." I said, stealing the jacket from him. I don't know why it was so important to me, but I didn't want anyone else to touch it. Yes, it hurt to have it as a reminder of the boy I loved, but it also gave me comfort when I had those dreadful night terrors about my dad. It took them away.

Louis gave me an incredulous look as he watched the way I held the jacket. I just continued to look down at it as I asked, "What did he tell you about us?" I mumbled, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to hear it.

"Well," Louis sighed as he sat down on the edge of my bed. "He said that he regretted ever hurting you. Said that he deserved the suffering he received because he caused you to feel such pain as well."

"He doesn't." I whispered, feeling my heart clench at the thought of him thinking he deserves to be broken. If anything, he deserved to heal from his past, not constantly be reminded of the things he did wrong.

"I know that, but it's how he feels." He said, looking at me in our silence, and I finally lifted my head up to meet his eyes after a while. "You know, that boy loves you." He said, and the numbness began to take over again.

"I know." I mumbled out, feeling the thumping of my heart that so longed for his. I was holding myself back, and it was torture, but it was all I knew.

"And how do you feel about him?" He asked, and I sat silently, not feeling pressured by Louis at all, which I thought was unusually wonderful. He didn't rush me. He sat patiently as I struggled against my fears to let the words out that hung on the tip of my tongue.

"I... I love him, too." I admitted, feeling panic rise inside of me at hearing the words leave my mouth. It made it even more real to admit it to someone. It wasn't my secret anymore. It lingered in the air, suffocating me from the outside in, and I couldn't think clearly anymore.

All of my fear seemed to sky-rocket; as if my nerves were soldiers suddenly drawn to attention at the command of my fear. And I didn't even know I was crying until Louis was pulling me into his arms, but they weren't the arms I wanted to be in. So I settled for his, holding the jacket as close to my chest as I could - close to my heart.

"You're hurting yourselves. Both of you." He whispered lightly, and I knew we were. I knew we were both allowing ourselves to be hurt. It was a crazed sort of masochistic/sadistic love. Only Zayn didn't know that I loved him back.

"I l-love him." I cried out, gripping onto Louis' shirt in desperation, as if it was the only sense of reality I had to hold onto. Everything else seemed to slip away in a world of darkness and suffering. I was in the deep end and continuously sinking; not even trying to swim. I allowed the hole in my heart to burrow further down. A place that could only be filled by Zayn. The boy who I saw as someone dark and dangerous but was truly someone broken up more than I could ever imagine. And he loved me.

"Liam," Louis began, running his fingers through my hair as I cried into his shoulder. "If you love him, why don't you tell him?" He asked.

And we fell into silence again as he held me close, attempting to give me half of the comfort I needed. And I thought about his question, feeling my whole body freeze like ice from the terror that ran through me.

Why didn't I tell him? 

And the answer was: I was too afraid. But if Zayn - someone who's terrible ripped to pieces inside, was able to open up completely to me and tell me he loved me, why couldn't I do the same?

Why was I so afraid of falling when I was already in too deep?


	39. You

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, running my finger over the spots on my face that would usually be littered in bruises. I stared down at the concealer bottle that was my mum's before I took it. I had no need for it anymore, and that was so surreal to discover. And I had no clue how to feel.

Should I feel freed from my past? I didn't know if I could while it happened to be the biggest gossip right now. It was awful to walk through school, or even in public, and be known as 'that kid whose father beat him.' Wasn't a great reputation. Or should I feel haunted by my past? I sort of did, but I also wanted to cover it up like a dirty little secret.

I jumped as my bedroom door opened, my mum appearing in the doorway. I've been a lot more jumpy lately, and I didn't know why that was. I sighed in relief when I saw it was only her. I just seemed to have my guard up these past few days, and I didn't know how to let it down.

"Louis' here to pick you up." She informed, and I nodded, grabbing Zayn's jacket and putting it on without stopping to think. I made my way over to walk past my mum, and she grabbed a hold of my arm gently, turning me to her.

She gave me a once-over before smiling softly. "Have fun tonight, Liam. And don't forget to call me or text me if you're staying out later than you think." She said, and I nodded. My mum's been putting on this over-protective act, and I had no idea how I should feel about it, but it irritated me just a bit. It made me feel like I was so fucked up that my mum saw she had to control my life to keep me from any more damage. I hated it.

I slipped past her, making my way outside to where I saw Louis' car. I froze as I realized Zayn was also there. I suddenly didn't know if I could do this. But I had to. I had to make myself step forward again, my heart thumping heavily in my chest - so hard I could hear it beating in my ears. Then it came to a complete stop as I neared the car, seeing Zayn get out.

We stopped, staring at each other with so many unspoken words between us. He looked stunning, as always. He was dressed in a white button up that seemed to fit against his frame almost too properly, making it hard to ignore. He had on regular black jeans and shows - the only thing missing was his jacket that I was wearing. It made my heart do a weird flip, and I was the first to avert my eyes from this staring contest we seemed to be in.

I heard Zayn move, opening the car door for me, and I had to force my feet to take steps forward. "Thank you." I mumbled as I slid into the backseat. Zayn shut the door behind me, and Louis gave me a greeting smile as Zayn got in again. Then we were driving, and looking out of the window was all I could do to not panic. Because the boy I loved was so close yet so broken down by me.

"Niall and Harry are already at the school. Performers had to show up two hours early to rehearse." Louis informed me, and I nodded, choosing to remain silent.

I listened to his and Louis' conversation. His voice was like ice constantly being poured over me, numbing me to the point of pain. He gave out a small laugh at something Louis' said, a half-hearted laugh that seemed mixed with agony, but it still sounded like music to my ears. It was something even more magical than the keys on his piano. It was unmatchable.

I turned my head from looking out of the window to try and catch a glimpse of Zayn through the wing mirror, but it seemed I wasn't the only one to have that idea. Our eyes met through the mirror, and I felt my heart clench and my lips fall open slightly, so many words wanting to come out, but I couldn't make a sound. I couldn't even breathe.

I dropped my gaze, looking down at my shirt and pretending to pick off small pieces of lint from it. I waited a while before peeking up again, my breath catching as I saw that his gaze never left. And even through the mirror, I could see the way his eyes held a deep and uncontrollable longing. 

It made me wonder if he knew just how much my heart was longing for him as well.  
\------------------------------------------------------

The auditorium was packed. The audience was massive -- men and women dressed in rich clothing all sat or stood, having small talk as they waited for their children to perform. I sat in my seat, my hands resting in my lap as I thought about how much fun it was to work with Harry on his song. It seemed to just be so natural and effortless to help him rewrite and edit.

It was me and Zayn, sitting patiently as Louis ran off backstage to give Harry a few encouraging words before he would perform, and it was tense. I could feel his eyes on me as I sat staring at my hands, my eyes tracing the 'M'-shaped skin of my palm.

"You wore the jacket." He finally spoke, and the words seemed laced in a fondness that made my hands shake. It was a simple observation to anyone else listening in, but it meant so much more between the two of us.

"Yeah." I whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would cause me to break completely. It was so hard being near him when I knew the way he felt; the way I felt. It was new and overpowering. It seemed to swarm itself together with all of the hurt, and it all confused me. "You can have it back if you want." I said, shrugging off the jacket and handing it to him, but he stopped me.

"No, I like when you wear it." He said, and I nodded, doing my best to ignore the longing I had to just reach out for him. I set the jacket on my lap as he continued. "I gave it to you. It's yours now, not mine." He added. "I have plenty of other jackets."

"Then why didn't you give me one of those instead?" I questioned, knowing that this was his favorite jacket. He was never caught without it, and it didn't even fit me. I knew he must've had others that he outgrew.

"Because the others are all crap. They suck at keeping in the heat." He said, and I couldn't help the impulse I had to worry about him.

"What about you?" I asked quietly, not wanting my emotions to get the best of me. It proved to almost be impossible as he gave me a small smile, his eyes searching my face for something, but I wasn't quite sure what it was.

"You're my first priority." He admitted, and it was the first time in a long time that I truly felt that someone was putting me first. But it also caused an ache inside of me to know that Zayn didn't really care about himself. And maybe he never truly did deep inside. Maybe he covered it up with drinking and pretending.

I was about to say something else, convince Zayn that he should be his first priority, but the moment was interrupted as Louis walked back over to us, Harry's mum right behind him. And I could tell she was nervous. It was as if being around so many people tripped something within her that made her cautious and afraid. I knew she was typically frantic at home, so this must be hard for her. It just showed how much she cared for her son.

"This is my beat friend Zayn, and you've met Liam." Louis said as soon as they walked right up to us. "Zayn, this is Harry's mum." He informed, and Anne gave a nervous smile, her hand seeming to shake as she held it out to Zayn.

"It's nice to meet you." Anne said to Zayn as he replied with a polite comment, and then she shook my hand. I felt how cold and shaky her hand felt, and I couldn't help but feel bad. "Lovely to see you again, Liam. Harry's very excited to perform what you'ce been working on." She said, and pulled her hand away, wiping it on her dress- a simple red dress that was accompanied by her messy bun, but she still looked stunning.

"I'm sorry. I'm just... not use to public outings like this. The pills aren't doing very well." She admitted, and Louis' eyebrow rose at her words.

"Pills?" He questioned. I knew Harry was afraid for Louis to meet the nervous side of his mum, but I knew that it wouldn't make a difference to Louis. He loved Harry, and I knew he'd support him and his family through anything.

"Yes. I took a few before coming due to my anxiety. It's not my ideal situation, but I can't miss Harry perform." She said, and I tuned out as Louis and she continued their conversation. My focus was once again on the body warmth that I felt linger beside me as Zayn rested his arm on the fancy armrest of the auditorium chairs.

My thoughts were quickly snatched away, however, as the lights dimmed a bit, everyone quieting down and taking their seats. I turned to Louis as he sat beside me, a thoughtful look on his face that seemed a bit troubled.

"You okay?" I questioned, seeing the way he stared at the ground in confusion.

"Why wouldn't Harry just tell me about his mum?" He asked, seeming to be speaking more to himself than to me, but I still offered a reply.

"Maybe he was just unsure of how you would react. He's been through a lot, Louis. I think he just doesn't want to lose you. So just don't leave him. Let him know you love him." I said, patting his arm a bit, and he turned to me as the last set of people took their seats.

"I could say the same to you." He replied, and I was left speechless as a spotlight came up on stage, a woman dressed in a light cream colored gown stepping out with a microphone to begin the introduction of the show. But I was lost in my thoughts.

'Let him know you love him.'

I suddenly became hyperaware of how close Zayn was again. And I sat rigid, my eyes traveling to him to see the way he was listening intently to what the lady on stage was saying. And I did my best to relax, but it proved to be futile. I couldn't relax. Not with the way my heart sped up as I shifted a bit, my hand rubbing against Zayn's for not even a fraction of a second, but it felt like the whole world stopped at the simple touch.

I looked down at Zayn's hand, seeing him flex the muscle as if he was resisting the urge to reach out for mine again. I was resisting that urge as well. It was a silent battle we were having - seeing who would break first, and just when I thought I wouldn't last much longer, he broke.

His hand reached for mine, interlacing our fingers, and it felt like a billion volts of electricity was sent through my body. An immediate electrocution to my heart that seemed to rebirth me. And my hand trembled in his warm one.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving to pull his hand away, and I saw the hurt on his face. The absolute gutted look in his eyes broke my heart, and I took a deep breath before tightening my hold on his hand.

"It's okay." I responded, seeing his gorgeous eyes shoot up from our hands to my own. They seemed to sparkle in the dim lighting, and I found my eyes traveling to his lips as his did the same to mine. And I wanted to feel his lips on mine, but I also knew that would prove how badly I've fallen for him. Like I've never fallen for anybody before.

And I had no clue if I was telling myself this was okay or just reassuring him.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"It was amazing! Are you kidding me, Harry?" Louis exclaimed, smiling widely at his boyfriend, and I stared down at the floor as their lips met for a brief second.

"I'm really proud of you, Harry. You did so well, love." His mum said, pulling him into a hug, and Harry smiled before replying.

"It wasn't all me. A lot of the credit should go to Liam for helping me out in the first place." He said, gesturing over to me as everyone turned to look at me. My throat seemed to tighten under all the newfound attention.

Luckily, I didn't have to speak as Niall suddenly came over, a man and a woman dressed in expensive clothing trailing behind him. And I suddenly remembered that almost everyone here was wealthy.

"Hey, guys. These are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Zayn, Louis, Harry, his mum, and Liam." He introduced, and I felt awkward shaking hands with such regal-looking strangers, but it was the polite thing to do, and they seemed nice enough. I vaguely remember them shouting their lungs off at the end of Niall's performance, much to the distaste of the people around them.

"Harry, you're performance was marvelous. One of the bests there was." His mum complimented, and Harry flushed a bit under the praise.

"Thank you, but, um, Liam helped me with the arrangement. If any credit is due, it's to him." He said, drawing eyes onto me again.

"Well, you are a gifted young man. Rosewood's missing out on a good one." His dad said, and I nodded in thanks, not sure how to honestly respond.

Their attention then turned to Anne, indulging in some parental conversation as the five of us were left standing there. Lucky for Louis and Harry, they had each other. "We'll be back. I'm going to help Harry get all of his belongings from backstage." Louis spoke, and we all nodded as they wondered off. And the awkwardness fully began as I realized I was left with Zayn and Niall.

Niall- the boy who I knew had a crush on me, but I barely knew him, and I didn't feel anything toward him. And Zayn- the boy I know I've fallen for, but I was too nervous to actually admit it to him even if I knew his true feelings as well.

"What did you think?" Niall asked me suddenly, and I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "About my performance?" He nervously added, and I gave him a small smile to ease his nerves, but I was all too aware of Zayn watching our interaction.

"I liked it. I actually thought it was really good. And the change of tempo seemed to happen at the right time. It had an excellent build up." I complimented, being completely honest. Niall had a true talent, like most people here. Others probably paid a whole lot to just make it through auditions.

"Thanks. Means a lot coming from you." He said, and I was aware of the slight attempt of flirting, but I didn't even think about retaliating, which seemed to dim his hopes a bit, but it was better he knew now not to try rather than later.

I heard him give out a small sigh of frustration, and I did feel a bit bad. "Listen Liam... I think it's pretty obvious that I like you." He began, and my whole body tensed, not expecting a full on confession from him. I don't think Zayn did either from the way he seemed to involuntarily take a step toward us, a hard glare forming on his features as he looked at Niall.

"There's just something about you... it's like you're scared of the world, and I can't help but want to show you that you shouldn't be. Nobody as kind as you should be." He expressed.

"Niall, you don't even know me." I pointed out. It was true. All we knew about each other was a name. Everything beyond that was a blur of mystery.

"I know, but... I was hoping we could change that. If you give me a chance. If you let me take you out tomorrow night." He said, his eyes filling with hope as he took my hand, and... there were no sparks.

I opened my mouth to respond, and I saw Zayn walk away, leaving toward the exit doors, and my heart dropped a bit. I looked back at Niall, a hopeful look lingering in his eyes, and I felt bad for having to diminish it.

"I'm sorry, Niall, but I like someone else. I- I love... someone else." I said, pulling my hand away and seeing the slight disappointment that crossed his features.

"It's Zayn, isn't it?" He asked, and I looked at him in surprise, seeing him give a small laugh at my shock. "It's kind of obvious. The glares he gives me, the way he's always staring at you when you aren't looking, and the way you look at him as if he couldn't be real. It's sort of precious." He admitted. I stood in silence, wamrth spreading through me at his words.

"It's fine. I understand. Hopefully we can just be friends." He said, and I nodded, offering a kind smile. Our conversation ended as Louis and Harry came back with his guitar and equipment. We said goodbye to Niall's parents before leaving to hang out at Zayn's house. Niall, Harry, and Anne leaving in Harry's car as Louis, Zayn, and I left in Louis' car. 

And the silence seemed to stretch on forever.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"No! That was the best part though!" Louis gasped, shaming Niall for his opinion on some sports game a few days ago. Apparently they were both huge football fans. I could never get into the sport.

I sat on the edge of the couch, Louis and Harry curled up together on the other end, Niall was laying flat on his back on the floor, and Zayn was standing by the couch, handing Louis the drink he asked for.

"Anyone else want anything?" He asked quietly, and everyone shook their heads when his eyes were on them. Finally, he turned to me, and I found myself nodding slightly.

"Um... do you have hot cocoa?" I questioned softly, our whole interaction seeming to go unnoticed as the other lads continued their conversation, but I was hyperaware of every action Zayn took.

"Yes. I'll make it and bring it to you." He offered, and I whispered out a 'thank you.'

He turned to walk to the kitchen, and I watched his figure disappear. And I felt numb- as if a distance was growing between us. I didn't like it at all, and breathing got hard.

I got up from the couch, excusing myself from the group, though I don't think they noticed. I walked toward the door to the garden, walking outside and being immediately introduced to many different types of flowers. They were each beautiful in their own way, and it made me think... maybe people were flowers. Each petal a different layer you had to peel off to get to the center. We lives our lives closed in life flower buds until we finally realized our true potential, causing us to bloom. It was a wonderful thought.

I stepped deeper into the garden, noticing the tree that Zayn and laid under. And I stopped, my legs choosing not to walk any further as I sat down, feeling the cold wind against my skin as I left the jacket inside on the couch's arm. And I looked up at the stars, thinking about what Zayn's mum told him. The simple memory brought back an ache of longing.

I closed my eyes, leaning back against the tree and attempting to stop the tears that wanted to escape. There were so many fond memories, and it felt like a whole ocean of them seemed to be flooding up my brain. It was an agonizing experience.

"Liam, it's fucking cold out here. What are you doing?" I heard Zayn's voice, and then he was kneeling down in front of me, hot cocoa and his - or my- jacket in his hands. I saw the look of concern on his face as he wrapped the jacket around my shoulders after handing me the cup.

"What about you?" I asked, noticing the goosebumps that were already beginning to form on his skin. They were lovely, and I wanted to reach out and trail my fingers against them, but something told me not to. Not to act too soon.

He sat down completely, looking me in the eyes as he shrugged. "I'm not worried about myself." He explained, and I saw his eyes fall to where my hand was on the ground, playing with the blades of grass there. And I thought about how good it felt just to hold his hand.

"You should be, though." I replied in a whisper. And I wasn't exactly sure what I meant by that. Did I mean it in a physical way? That he should take care of himself and always keep bandages around in case he got hurt. Or did I mean it in a metaphorical way? That he shouldn't trust me with his heart because all I knew how to do was to push people away. I would only hurt him.

He seemed to know. The look he gave me seemed to understand my double meaning without even having to pry. And I hated the way he knew me so well. Hated that he watched me so often, knew the things I never even said. And that scared me because what if he knew how I felt about him. I wasn't ready for that.

"I love you, Liam." He said, and my chest clenched as I squeezed my eyes shut, physical pain shooting throughout my body at the words that washed over me. And I couldn't stop the tears this time.

"D-don't say that." I begged, my body trembling from something other than the cold. His words wrapped around me like a vice, blocking off any and all air flow. My heart was pounding in my chest, the thump of it drowning everything else out - everything except Zayn's voice.

I felt his arms wrapped around me, the cup of cocoa discarded away, long forgotten, and my mind became aware of every touch; every spot our bodies connected at. "Why are you crying, princess?" He whispered, his voice as soothing as any lullaby.

The feel of his arms, the familiar safety they offered, and the stability they supplied sent a sweep of agony to shoot through me. My heart ached, but it also felt so full. It was conflicting, but I found myself replying.

"I'm so scared, Zayn." I whimpered out, begging him to help keep myself together. I was falling out at every end, but his arms seemed to pull me back together again, even if for only a second.

"I- I'm scared of this. Of us." I cried out, my hands shaking violently as I held on tightly to his shirt, grasping onto him with everything I had. My face rested against his shoulder, my runaway tears soaking his shirt sleeve, but he didn't seem to mind. "I'm scared of how I feel about you." I confessed in a soft voice, desperately hoping he wouldn't ask how I felt. I wasn't prepared for that.

But he just held me silently. Rocking us back and forth as he kept me close, and I closed my eyes, listening to the beat of his heart. I listened so intensely that I managed to mimic the beats, thrumming my fingers against Zayn's skin lightly, feeling goosebumps build again, and I looked up, reaching my hand out to touch the small formations on his neck.

I heard his breath hitch -- his heartbeat speeding up -- and our eyes locked as I pulled away to look at him. My hand traveled up the side of his neck, and I marvelled at the lovely expanse of skin. And then our eyes were locked again as I felt Zayn lean in. My heart throbbed as nerves consumed me.

"You're so beautiful." He confessed, his words completely sincere, eventhough I knew I had dried tear stains on my cheeks and puffy eyes. He still saw me as something beautiful. And it made me feel cherished.

"Thank you." I whispered shyly, feeling as if speaking any louder would break the little world I was in. One wrong move would shatter everything again.

Our eyes stayed on one another's before I saw Zayn's drop down to my lips, causing mine to drop down to his. He leaned in closer, and I looked back in his eyes, seeing his raw and exposed emotions lingering there. And I tried to swallow my fear.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, his tone soft as well, and I wondered if he had the same thoughts as me.

"I'm afraid to love." I answered instead, his eyes showing understanding.

"I'm afraid, too. Terrified." He confessed, our faces so close that our lips lightly ran against each other, sending sparks of pleasure throughout my body, and I gave in with a nod.

Our lips met in a painful longing, pressing against one another, never wanting to separate. And I found myself falling deeper than I even knew was possible. And I was afraid but also thankful. And I lost myself in his kiss.

"I won't say it... but it's true." Zayn whispered after we broke apart briefly, and I knew what he meant. I felt lucky to have someone like him. Someone who was willing to go at any pace I needed, but I was also worried about holding him back.

I kept my eyes closed, feeling Zayn peck my lips again, then again, and finally we fell into a full out liplock, and I felt like I was floating. Or maybe I was sinking.

"It's you, Liam." He expressed, and I was confused for a moment, opening my eyes to look at him. "I don't have to be afraid of my dad's words. About hell." He said.

"I thought you were afraid of not going to heaven." I said, finally finding my voice in his confession.

He shook his head, looking up at the stars for a moment before looking back at me. "Heaven is you." He declared, and I leaned in to kiss him again.

Yes, I was terrified, but the only time I felt okay was when I as around Zayn. He was my sickness and my medicine. And I thought the words I as too afraid to utter.

I love you, Zayn Malik.


	40. Mend

I was scared and confused. I didn't know what Zayn and I were anymore. I knew how we both felt, but he only knew that I was afraid. And I was too much of a coward to actually explain how the pain I held in my heart was because I loved him so much it hurt.

I was laying down on my bed, just staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything that occured last night. From the moment I saw Zayn to the moment when our lips met. It was all so frustrating yet calming. My mind was on an overload as I tried to figure out what the hell we were suppose to do now.

Because things still weren't okay. My dad's hearing was right around the corner, and I didn't know if I was brave enough to go up there and actually make a statement. I didn't know if I was strong enough to face him again, in a place where others would be able to hear anything I confessed. The thought terrorized me.

And this dark secret seemed to be the only thing that kids gossiped about at school. It both pissed me off and made me want to hide out in my room like I always did. It was none of their business, and they had no right to pretend it actually affected them. I just wish I could walk down a hall without getting sympathetic stares. Hell, even my counselor decided to check up on me, which I found ironic when I considered the fact that she never checked up on me even when I met with her to fix my schedule and harboured bruises on my skin.

I looked up as I heard my door open, and I sighed as I saw my mum step inside. "Liam, I made lunch if you want any." She informed, her voice wary and full of concern. I despised it. I didn't want to be treated like a ticking time bomb even if I may be one right now.

"I'm not hungry." I said. It's been a while since I've eaten, and I felt the shame of it. I felt guilty about breaking my part of the deal I made with Zayn, but he probably broke his as well. Why would he keep it when I wasn't even around to enforce it anymore?

I heard my mum sigh before stepping further into my room. "Liam, you need to eat. I'm worried about you. Now that I'm seeing the truth, I'm seeing how much you're hurting yourself as well." She said, and that statement made me frustrated with her.

"Really? You want to tell me about hurting myself? What about you, huh?" I asked, sitting up in my bed to look her in the eyes, and she looked away. I scoffed at her, and maybe I was being really harsh, but I was stressed out.

"I'm not doing anything. I'm just trying to talk to you." She said, keeping her voice level when all I wanted was for her to show some type of emotion besides her guilt, sympathy, and false kindness. "Why won't you talk to me?" She asked, and I was almost shocked by the question.

"Why won't I talk to you? What are we suppose to talk about? How my own dad beat me for years yet you still love him? Do you want to talk about that?" I threw at her, and maybe it was a low blow, but I couldn't take this conversation right now. I couldn't take the way it felt to be around my mum. Almost like she resented me for existing and ruining her happy ever after.

"Mum, how can you still love him?" I asked, trying to rationalize it and understand it. She always said I came first, yet she sat around mourning the loss of him as if he dropped dead. He hurt me in one of the worst ways, and she admitted to me that she still loves him.

"I don't know!" She responded, and I felt no sympathy as tears ran down her eyes. I hardly felt anything anymore. Last night was an exception. I felt around Zayn. I felt so much, and every small emotion seemed to collapse into something much bigger than it was originally with him.

Pain turned excruciating. Sadness turned to a deep depression. Caring turned to depending. And love... I felt it physically crippling me and being my crutch all at once. It was a conflicting feeling that made me want to hide away forever.

"It's just hard, Liam. I... I met your father when we were young. And we fell in love." She said, a small smile on her face as she thought back to their first few years together, but I couldn't smile. I could barely breath as she continued speaking. "He was all I knew then, and we depended on each other for everything. We supported each other through every breakdown we had. And he was so good at taking care of me." She reminisced, and I found it unbelievable that he could be good at caring for anyone.

"We got married and had you, and... I was so happy!" She breathed out, and the impact hit me. I hated the way tears suddenly sprung into my eyes. "We were so happy to have a little boy that we could both raise the way our parents never raised us." She said, and I fought the urge to make a snarky comment about how they definitely succeeded.

"Liam, your father loved you. You were his pride and joy, and he would hold your hand on your way to school and be so happy to receive your drawings or hear how well you were doing. You were such a smart boy even back then. You have to believe he loved you." She all but begged me.

"Yeah, and the key word is 'loved'." I pointed out, feeling shittier than when I first woke up this morning. "He loved me until he realized that his son was a little fag. And then where did that 'pride and joy' go?"

"It's still there! It has to be, doesn't it? Liam, I keep hoping that the man I love isn't a monster. That this is all some back dream that I just can't seem to wake up from. I keep hoping it'll all disappear, and we can be happy as a family again. Don't you?" She questioned, and I was angry that she even asked me that question.

Of course I wanted to have a normal, happy family, but I didn't get that. I got a father who turned on me faster than I could even blink. And I don't even know where the decision started. It was just a switch that went off, and all of a sudden I meant nothing more than roadkill. And you leave roadkill on the street-- a stain of mistreatment to something that didn't succeed in defending itself.

"Yeah? Well, I had that hope, too. That it was just a nightmare that I could wake up from. But guess what?" I asked, getting off of the bed and standing up, trying to be strong eventhough my legs felt like jelly. "I opened my eyes, but the nightmare continued."

My mum stood with a horrified look in her eyes, but I was finished with the conversation. I got my shoes on as fast as I could, grabbing Zayn's jacket and throwing it on as I slipped past my mum. I only heard her call for me again as I opened the front door. She cried my name as if she needed me there, but I knew what she needed. She needed to feel like she didn't fail at being a wife and a mother. I knew I couldn't give her that.

So I walked out, hearing her calls of my name turn into sobs, but I couldn't being myself to turn around to comfort her. I didn't want to have to deal with picking up her pieces when I couldn't even carry my own.  
\------------------------------------------------------

I knocked on the door, feeling nervous about seeing Zayn. Maybe it was the moment we shared last night that had me feeling so uncertain. Maybe it was because I knew all of my emotions would flood to the surface just by seeing his face. I didn't have to worry about that, however, as his aunt opened the door.

"Oh, Liam. Zayn isn't here right now. I sent him to buy a few things for the garden. Do you want to come in still?" She asked, and I debated it. I haven't truly spoken to her since the whole incident happened. It just felt so surreal to pretend nothing happened and act all casual. But maybe I didn't have to pretend.

"Um... yes. If that's okay." I said, and she gave me a small smile as she stepped aside and allowed me into the house. She closed the door behind us, and I felt my anxiety creep up on me again. "Uh, do you know how long it'll be until Zayn gets back?" I asked. Still, I didn't know if it terrified me to be around his aunt or him more. His aunt was a perceptive person but Zayn was able to evoke even the most subtle emotion out of me. Two very dangerous people to be around.

"Not long. I'd say about twenty minutes or so. You could come help me out in the garden to help get your mind off of things. It's something I always do. Being around the soil and just staying active keeps me calm in stressful times." She offered, and grabbed a pair of gloves from the coffee table.

"I don't exactly have a green thumb." I confessed, following her to the garden door despite my lack of experience with planting of any sort.

"You won't be needing one. All we're doing is planting a few flowers that are already fully grown. I'll teach you, but it's quite easy. Zayn's out getting fertilizer that will help keep them strong and healthy." She informed, and I felt a little better as she shot me a sincere and reassuring smile. Maybe being around her wouldn't be so bad.

We reached the planting site, and I saw flowers in small four inch pots ready to be planted. It made me feel better that I didn't have to deal with seeds and whether or not I pushed them too deep into the soil for them to break the surface.

"You can start on this end. All you do is make a hole, not too big, not too small." She said, demonstrating the action and forming a perfect hole in the ground. "Then, you take the flower and carefully remove it from the pot. You want to be careful not to break the roots off. Then you simply place the flower in the hole and fill it around with soil. That easy." She assured. "You try."

I hesitated before doing my best to copy her actions. I made the hole in the ground, estimating how big I should make it, and when I didn't get a sound of disapproval, I assumed it was good enough. I grabbed a flower and made sure to remove it-- roots and all-- from the pot before planting it in the ground.

"You're a natural." She complimented, and I actually gave a little chuckle at her appraisal. She ruffled my hair as she got up to begin on the opposite side, and perhaps I should have been worried about the dirt that was probably now in my hair, it was an action that reminded me too much of parental pride. Something I've missed out on in my life.

"So, um, these are flowers that like cold weather?" I questioned, trying to side-track myself from my own thoughts.

"Yes. I switch them out every now and then. It's not exactly a cheap garden to maintain, but I don't plan on letting it die. Gardening may not be my idea of a fun time, but I'm not going to let this all go to waste." She said, and I saw that she already planted three flowers as I just held my hand in another formed hole, too many thoughts on my mind.

"Then why?" I asked, making her look up at me. "Why put yourself through all of the trouble? Why put so muh effort into it?" I questioned, not seeing how it made sense for her to continue to work so hard on something when it was easier to just let it go.

"Well, believe it or not, lots of things require effort to function properly." She commented, continuing to plant the flower she held in her hand before looking up at the bushes of flowers. She sighed as a few moments sent by before she spoke again.

"My ex-fiancé was a gardener. He absolutely adored the outdoors; had a unique eye for beauty." She smiled a bit at the memory, and I listened closely to what she had to say.

"When we first met, he gave me a flower. A single lily. And that's when I started falling for him. And eventhough it didn't work out between us, I did love him. And he taught me something. He taught me that sometimes you try your hardest to hold things together, to keep something working, but it falls apart anyway. That doesn't mean you give up. You pick up the broken pieces and rebuild. You fall apart so you can restart life with a different view." She confessed.

"You still love him." I pointed out, hearing it in her voice and seeing it in her eyes. It was a deeply rooted love, and it only made me more terrified of my own emotions.

"Deeply. But not in the same way. I love him as a person I respect and hold close to my heart. But I knew we wouldn't have worked, and I'm okay with that now. This," She said, gesturing at all of the amazing flowers around us. "This is my way of rebuilding. I lost a part of my life, but I'm creating others."

I sat silently, looking down at the empty hole in the ground that resembled the way I felt inside. Empty. Empty and awaiting something to give me back what I lost. For a hand to refill my heart.

"What if you're afraid to find out if something will work? Because you've seen the way others try only to fail. Time after time. You see... you see l-love, but you never see it work out." I voiced, feeling myself tremble a bit as I looked up, my eyes meeting hers. She had a soft smile on her face as she made her way over to me and laid her hand on top of my own.

"Liam, love is scary. Love is like someone pulling away the covers that kept you safe and warm your whole life and throwing you out into the cold, frigid air. It's like someone lit a firework in your heart, making it burn from the inside out, but it's also so damn beautiful." She smiled, lifting her hand up and wiping away a stray tear that I didn't mean to let slip. 

"And you're right. It doesn't work for everybody. In fact, it's very rare that it works at all, but if there's one thing I've learned from it, it's that it will hurt you and cripple you and control you no matter what you do. It's smart to be afraid of it, but if you don't let yourself fall, you'll miss out on something most people could only dream about. And you'll never fill the hole with soil." She said, her voice in a whisper near the end as she placed a flower in the hole I made, taking my hands in hers and filling it with more dirt.

I looked back up at her, unsure of how to respond. But my mouth seemed to move on its own accord.

"I love him." I confessed, feeling her squeeze my hands in her own.

"And that's beautiful. It's okay to be scared, but you can't let it ruin your opportunities. You are worthy of love." She said, never brekaing eye contact with me, and for some reason, I believed her. Her candid responses made me feel like I wasn't just being stupid. I was being human.

"I'm back!" We both turned to the open screen door as we heard Zayn's voice from inside of the house. I looked to his aunt, my eyes begging to keep this whole conversation a secret, and she nodded.

"Don't worry, Liam. I won't tell. And maybe that's hard for you to believe from anyone after what happened, but you need to realize that we were only trying to protect you. You're family now, Liam, and we protect each other because it's all we have." She said calmly, and I only had a chance to nod before Zayn was walking outside with a bag of fertilizer.

"What's going on here?" He asked, his eyes moving from his aunt to my own. And I saw the adoration fill his features eventhough he was doing his best to hold himself back. He didn't know where we stood either, and I felt all of my nerves return.

"Just showing Liam how to plant. He's a natural." Colette said, smiling as she gave me a side hug before patting my back. "Why don't you boys go and relax while I finish this? I'll make us all a snack afterward." The mention of food filled me with guilt, and I did my best not to flinch.

I got up and followed Zayn inside after he placed the bag down beside his aunt and gave her a kiss to her cheek. It still warmed my heart every single time to see him let out his affectionate side. It was reserved for those he truly cared about. It made me feel honoured to be one of those people.

We silently walked to his room, so much tension lingering in the air, and I desperately wanted to reach out and grab his hand to attempt to reassure myself that we were okay, or that we would be okay.

As soon as we walked into the room, he was sitting on the bed, and I stood awkwardly by the closed door. All of my feelings were fighting to break out, but I tried to appear unfazed, eventhough it was obvious how much he affected me.

"Do you have any idea how much it kills me to have you so close and not be able to touch you?" Zayn suddenly spoke, and I felt the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, his words washing over me and shocking me at how sincere they sounded. But I shouldn't be shocked. Hearing his true emotions shouldn't be this unbelievable every single time.

"I never said you couldn't." I spoke, willing my eyes to stay in contact with his as a small, nearly sad, smile filled his lips. He held out a hand, motioning for me to walk toward him, and I did.

"What's wrong, princess?" He asked, pulling me into his lap, and I couldn't stop myself from resring my forehead against his, wanting to close all spaces between us and just be calm beside the only person I truly cared for. "I can tell something's bothering you."

I nodded, feeling out noses bump against each other's, and I felt his breath on my lips. It was tempting to press my lips to his, but my heart was racing far too much as fear pulsed through my veins.

"Everything." I breathed out, and I closed my eyes as I felt Zayn's arms wrap around my waist, squeezing me slightly. His scent, his touch, him-- it was all so comforting yet tragically terrifying.

"My mum still loves my dad." I let out, never opening my eyes, but I still felt his eyes on me, observing every single inch of my face. "She wants me to talk to her about it, but I can't. I can barely stand to look her in the eyes anymore. I just... I don't understand how she could still feel that way even after what he did." I confessed.

"Liam-" He began, but I cut him off.

"And what if I'm just like her?" I asked, wanting to pull out of his hold but needing his touch more than ever right now. "She still loves some who beat me senseless, but I'm falling for my ex-bully." I cried out, my hands running through my hair in distress and frustration. And I realized I was speaking more to myself rather than to Zayn.

I noticed it though, that my comment must've cut deep, because soon a silence formed around us, and I couldn't bring my eyes to meet his again. I didn't want to see that hurt.

"Maybe you're right." He finally said, and it was the opposite of what I was expecting. I expected him to tell me I was wrong, to be in a sort of denial, but he was doing his best to be honest with me, even if it hurt him in the process.

"Maybe you shouldn't like me. At all." He announced, but I heard the suffering in his tone. A silent suffering, and it made me think of everything his aunt just told me. "I know I'm no good for you." He spoke, and it scared me when his voice took a monotonous tone, as if he was doing his best to numb everything away.

"I don't deserve you, and we shouldn't be a thing. And maybe we should stop this whole thing right here, right now. Is that what you want Liam? Would that help you?" He asked, and I looked up at him, seeing that he was being completely honest. He would end this, this deep connection we had, if it would help me gather myself. But the thought of leaving this behind scared me more than falling into it.

"No." I said, shaking my head desperately as my chest tightened and panic filled me. "No, that's not what I want. I don't want that." I begged, and Zayn calmed me down, wrapping his arms tightly around me and whispering calming words in my ear.

"It's okay. I don't want that either. But I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy." He whispered, and I shook my head.

"That wouldn't make me happy. That would destroy me more than anything else did. I can't lose someone I think I might love." I stated, looking up into Zayn's eyes and seeing the shock on his face. It quickly subsided to a shy smile, one that was bright and filled with so much of the love that he felt.

"You think you might love me?" He asked, looking at me with so much hope and love, and I knew I did, but my mouth seemed to move on its own.

"Yes. No. I- I don't know." I lied. Why was it so hard to admit that I did? Why was I still trying to protect my heart when I knew Zayn wouldn't do anything to break it?

"Shh. It's okay, princess. It's alright." He assured me, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and I could feel tears building in my eyes at the thought of disappointing him, of bringing his hopes down.

"I-I'm sorry, I just-" I began, but Zayn cut me off, lifting my chin until I met his eyes again.

"You don't have to be sorry. You're dealing with a lot, and I'm not pushing you to do anything. You already know how I feel, and I wish you weren't so threatened by the words, but how I feel will never change. And I can wait forever and beyond that. But forever can spare a minute."

I saw all of the sincerity in his eyes. And I believed him. I believed that he would wait, and eventhough I felt bad for it, I wanted him to. I needed him to.

"Can I stay here tonight?" I suddenly asked, but the panic that instantly filled me was replaced with a calmness as I saw Zayn smile warmly. A smile that reached his eyes and made them light up stunningly.

"Of course. Any time you need to." He informed, and I felt more than welcomed in his home. I felt like I actually belonged, and it really helped distract from all of the stress I was consumed in. A place to call home, even if it wasn't my house.

"Boys, come get some fruit!" We heard Zayn's aunt call, and I tensed up at the mention of food, and I knew that Zayn knew something was wrong.

"Have you been eating, princess?" He asked, but I think he knew the answer based on the sadness that dripped from his voice. His hand came up to cup my cheek, and his thumb ran along my cheekbone. It was such an intimate moment, and I shook my head, hypnotized by his eyes.

"Have you been drinking?" I questioned, and I felt horrible for hoping he would say yes. I was hoping that I wasn't at fault for doubting him, but I was.

"No. I've been fighting that urge." He confessed, and I did shed a few tears of guilt and shame.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just.... I doubted you. I didn't think it mattered anymore. I lost my will to care. I-I-I broke." I admitted, and Zayn nodded, acting calm. He was my lifeline-- all I had to keep me sane.

"It's okay to break. But I want to mend you back together. But you have to let me." He said, looking me in the eyes with a silent plea. "Will you let me?"

"Yes." I whispered, not wanting to feel so worthless inside. I wanted to feel loved. I wanted to feel worthy. I didn't want those fleeting emotions. I wanted something more permanent. I needed it.

I needed to stop fearing that love would break me and just let it mend.


	41. Wonderwall

It was midnight when I woke up, and a small rush of panic shot through me as I realized I was alone in bed. That moment of panic quickly subsided as I heard the familiar keys of the piano playing a distance away. And I let out a sigh of relief as I laid back in bed.

I thought about everything that happened today. Zayn and I were okay. We were completely fine, and there was nothing more I could ask for. Maybe we were a little bent, but I believed him when he told me that things would be okay. I believed him when I've never believed anyone who has said that before. Because I saw truth in his eyes.

I grabbed my phone as I heard it buzz, seeing that my mum was calling me. 28 missed calls. All from her, but I didn't feel like speaking to her in that moment. I didn't feel like worrying or stressing myself out over anything. I just wanted to get away from the ruins of my home life.

I set my phone down and climbed out of bed, walking out of the room and toward the faint sound of the piano. I reached the room and slowly pushed the door open, seeing Zayn sitting at the piano. He didn't seem to be reading anything or writing anything. He was playing from memory, a song that sounded as torturous as it was to sit there and see the way Zayn was playing it. His eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, and as I walked closer, I noticed that he had tear stains on his cheeks.

But I waited, letting him play out the song and feeling every single emotion drip out. And I watched his face, the beauty of him being illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the small crack in the curtains. It was almost magical.

Then I noticed that the music was no longer sad. It was just gentle. And Zayn's face visibly relaxed upon the softness of the melody. It reminded me of something like his bird song, although it didn't end in a heavy tragedy. It ended with a sense of hope. And Zayn opened his eyes.

He looked down at the piano keys before he looked up, his eyes drifting over to me. It killed me to see the look on his face-- a sort of tired that I couldn't comprehend. Not sleepiness, and not the sort of tired that was full of sadness. It was something entirely different. Like tired from expressing so much emotion.

"What's it about?" I questioned quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere of the room.

He looked back down at the keys, his fingers trailing over them lightly, and my heart pounded as a small smile filled his face. He held his hand out for me, and I took it, allowing him to pull me until I was sitting on the bench beside him.

"I think it's time for another lesson." He said, placing my fingers down on a specific set of keys. "You play those notes as soon as I do this." He said, playing a few set of notes as a demonstration, and I nodded, feeling a bit nervous about messing this up.

He started the song over. It started off like something drifting onto the shore from the ocean, gentle yet curious. Almost as if the thing was scared or hesitant. And as soon as I heard the familiar keys, I pressed my fingers down, created a higher sound that only seemed to add to the song, making it almost hauntingly beautiful.

He stopped playing, repositioning my hands again on a new set of keys. "Now, play when I say so." He advised, and I nodded again. It was all I could do.

He continued the song, notes seeming to spill from his fingertips, which were moving fast and effortlessly across the keys as he came to a build up. Something nearly harsh and frightening. "Now." He ordered, and I pressed my fingers down again, being left with a chill down my spine.

"What are we doing?" I questioned. It was becoming too much for me. The amount of emotion and story telling poured into the song was unbelievable. It was enough to awaken something inside of me.

Zayn stopped playing, and we sat in silence as my question lingered in the air. I was desperate to know, but I learned better than to pry Zayn for it. If he was keeping a secret it was probably because it was something that was close to who he was.

"It's about us." He finally informed, his voice sounding raw and scratched with sleep. And I felt my heart come alive inside of my chest. It was thrumming out a melody almost as masterfully as Zayn with his piano.

"I wrote it about us... for us." He confessed, his voice taking on a vulnerability I've only heard a couple of times since I've known him. He was opening himself up, and I felt thankful to be let into his mind.

"It's a duet. You play some pieces as I play others. The sounds mix; high and low, soft and harsh. They represent who we are around each other... and apart from each other." He whispered, finally lifting his eyes up to look into mine, and I was speechless.

And it made sense. The curious yet timid start of the song leading into something harsh and nearly sinister. The start of Zayn and I in that restroom years ago to the start of Zayn and I as enemies. A harsh clash of the both of us. He pushed, and I cowered. And the ending-- the parts I heard. All of the pain fading away into hope. That was us now.

I felt tears building in my eyes as I felt all of Zayn's love-- saw it in his stare. I never imagined that someone could care for me the way he did. And never did I imagine that I would fall for someone as rough and sadistic as he appeared to be on the outside. Never did I imagine he'd be soft and sweet and caring on the inside.

He was the flower beginning to bloom while I was the butterfly that was trying to escape from its cocoon. And I needed the flower to help me survive.

I leaned in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that said so much more than I could voice. And he kissed me back. Gently. Like velvet rose petals gliding against one another, but the friction and desire only seemed to grow.

I felt as weightless as air as we stood up, our lips continuing to move against each other as we slowly made our way back to Zayn's room. We stepped inside of his door, and I felt the overwhelming desire to never leave; just stay in Zayn's arms, next to him on his bed, feeling comfortable in a place I could call home.

I laid on his bed as he climbed over me, pressing his lips to mine in small pecks, breaking away to look me in the eyes or to allow his eyes to search my face, as if he was attempting to capture every second like a photograph. And it made me feel wanted and important for once.

"You're everything to me." Zayn confessed, and I was at a loss for words. The only thing on my mind was how lucky I was to have found someone who values me more than I ever thought I could be valued.

I pulled him down to me again, kissing him with everything I had in me, and it was terrifying to let out all of my emotions to him, but I trusted Zayn. I trusted him with all of my hurt, doubt, hope, happiness-- everything.

Our kiss lasted a few seconds before Zayn moved to trail kisses along my jaw, moving until he reached a sweet spot between my jaw and neck. My hands tightened around back, and I felt my eyelashes flutter shut at the blissful feeling. I let out a quiet moan, shivering as soon as I felt him begin to suck on the skin. And it was thrilling to know that this was okay now. There was no one to hurt me for having the mark.

I felt Zayn pull away, his eyes stuck on the mark he just made, and I flinched as his fingers ran over it. There was a luck of utter pride and desire on his face, something that filled me with the same sense of emotion. Maybe we weren't out, maybe we weren't a couple, but I was definitely his, and he was definitely mine.

"I love you." He voiced. It was simple, but the words dug deep into my heart, making my whole body feel as if it never really knew what living was. It was an awakening that scared me. Something close to nirvana.

"You said you wouldn't say that." I reminded, feeling frozen in my spot, stuck between Zayn and his bed sheets. Stuck, but not trapped.

"I know, but I did. And I always will." He said, resting his forehead against mine, and I felt some of my nerves dissipate. Every little touch just seemed to assure me more and more that this was right. This wasn't something to be afraid of. But then I remember that love is suppose to be scary. Emotions are scary.

"How are we together?" I questioned, seeing the confused look on Zayn's face. "You said that song you wrote showed how we were together and apart. How are we when we're together... to you?" I clarified.

"Well, you're vanilla." He began, explaining what he meant. "Soft, sweet, and simple. And your heart is a crying river that needs a pond to land into." He explained, shifting our positions so that he was laying on his back and I was laying on his chest, snuggling into his warmth as I looked up at him, our eyes locking.

"What are you?" I questioned, dying to know how he saw himself.

"Me, I'm... I'm leather." He simply stated. "Hard, cracked, and difficult. But all of it is just faux. My heart is ice that you're slowly melting." He confessed, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Together we're, well, we're a hurricane. A beautifully tragic storm." He looked me in the eyes before his trailed to my lips. "What are we to you?" He asked, looking back up at me.

I thought about that. What were we? We weren't perfect, but we weren't a complete mess. We weren't birds of a feather, but we felt a lot of the same things. What were we?

"Artwork." I finally replied, the words seeming to tumble out of my mouth. "Artwork on an artist's canvas. An artist who lost the people he loved, closed himself off to complete solitude, and let his painting take him to the brink of insanity. Emotions displayed on a page, yet hidden away in the dark. Work that hasn't seen the light. Madness and structure combined. A Rorschach test where you have to look deep into the painting to find the beauty beyond the mess."

I never looked away from Zayn's eyes, and it felt intense in this moment. The connection I had with him was nothing like I've ever felt before. Yes, it made me afraid, but it also made me feel safe.

"When we're apart?" He asked, shifting closer to me until we were breathing each other's air.

"When we're apart it's like that little bird lost in the rain. Alone, terrified, the very thing that drove the artist to insanity. The very thing that killed Romeo and Juliet. The hole in a heart that causes failure." I said, looking at him and asking the same question back. "What do you think?"

"When we're apart... the whole fucking world is on fire." He explained. "My whole world... is hell. And I'm the worst sinner."

I shook my head, letting our lips brush against one another. "You're not." I whispered before pressing my lips to his again, feeling them fall into their natural rhythm.

"I'm not. Not when you're around." He promised, looking lovingly into my eyes, but I didn't feel the need to turn away and hide. Not anymore. I was comfortable with Zayn. It was natural.

"Will you go with me to my dad's hearing?" I asked, my words coming out shaky due to the fear that was deeply rooted within me. I needed Zayn there. He was my strength.

"I'd go anywhere with you if you needed me to." He admitted, and I could tell that he was sincere.

"I know you would. And I really need you. I'll always need you." I assured because I knew it was true. Even when I didn't think I would need anyone, I needed Zayn. He may have broken my down before, but everything he's done stemmed from a fear that I couldn't even comprehend. I never feared my sexuality, only what others would do to hurt me because of it.

"Promise?" He asked, and I was afraid to promise. I've broken so many before. I promised I wouldn't leave him, but I left him in tears. I promised I would try eating, but I gave up almost every meal.

"I understand now." I said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I understand why you told. Because you care. Because you...." I trailed off, not even having the strength to say the words.

"Because I love you." He finished for me, his hand moving to lift up my chin, his thumb moving along the bottom of it, caressing the soft skin there.

"I love you, Liam. And I never wanted to see another bruise on you. I never wanted to see you covered in your own blood. I was afraid for you. I was afraid of losing you just like you're afraid of losing me." He said, and my breath caught in my throat at his observation.

"I know you're afraid of it. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your heartbeat when you cling to me or when I kiss your neck. I feel it in your thumping pulse." He pointed out, his hand moving to feel the pulse on my neck, and I felt it pick up, beating quickly.

"You could never lose me." He insisted. And a part of me knew it was true. The only one who's been trying to run away and leave was me. I left him, and I was still running from my feelings, but I was trying to be stronger than I was.

"I am afraid." I confessed, feeling like a weight fell off of my shoulders at the confession. "Because I've seen the way people fall apart. People who care so much about each other... just end."

"That's true." Zayn agreed, his eyes never leaving mine at all. Not even for a second. It was as if I was the center of his universe. The center of all of his attention. "But the difference between us and them is that they forced and pushed for something to be created between them. We just fell into place."

It was true. We never meant to be drawn toward each other this way. We never forced this connection between us. It was always just there; something I couldn't describe, couldn't put into words the feeling of it.

"When we were apart," I began, "All I could do was cry. I didn't feel like leaving my bed, eating, even talking felt like too much work. I just let myself sit through my own pain. And it's so hard waking up every morning, walking through the school hallway and hearing them all whisper at it as if they actually cared, seeing my mum be completely torn apart by someone she shouldn't love, feeling like it's all my fault." I paused, taking in a deep breath to stop the tears that wanted to fall at my confession.

"Liam, I-" Zayn tried, but I continued speaking, wanting him to understand my thoughts.

"But I do wake up." I announced. "I wake up every day, and all I feel is this crippling pain. This ache deep inside of me that knows everything has changed and everything will be harder now. And everything... everything hurts. And I want it all to go away." I said, looking back up at Zayn, just knowing his eyes never left my face.

"Except this. So why do I need this pain?" I asked him, looking into his eyes and searching for an answer. Or for him to evoke the answer I already knew but didn't want to admit.

    "Because this pain is different. This pain is two hearts calling out for each other. Aching for each other; wanting to get closer but they can never get close enough." He said, and I couldn't agree more.

    We laid there for a while, gazing into each other's eyes, breathing each other's air, feeling each other's heart beats, forehead against forehead, lips brushing lips, and I felt content with everything in life. Nothing else mattered but this moment.

     "You make me better, princess." He whispered, and I couldn't help the smile that spread on my lips before I kissed him. My hand lifted to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to me, and his hand lifted to my cheek, keeping the kiss meaningful and powerful.

      "I love you." He declared, making me take in a sharp breath. "You don't have to say it back, you don't even have to feel the same way," He assured, and I felt my heart build with how much I actually did love him. "But I can't stop it. And I don't want to."

     I nodded, kissing him once more, both of us smiling non-stop, and seeing his smile only made me smile more. The moment just felt so relaxed and normal. As normal as we would probably ever get.

     "I don't want you to either." I confessed.

     Maybe we were a hurricane- a dangerous, deadly storm, but I didn't know how to survive or how to cope without being in the eye of it all.

     And I knew this wasn't a fairytale. None of it was perfect or pure or pretty. It was reality. It was pain and pressure and patience.

    It wasn't a fairytale... but it was so much better.


	42. Longing

I woke up in Zayn's arms, feeling warm and loved. It was a feeling I never wanted to lose, so I laid as still as possible. But it still never felt close enough. So I shifted onto my opposite side, facing Zayn and burying my face into his side, feeling completely enveloped by him and his scent.

And I thought about last night. The music Zayn wrote was so beautiful. There was so much tragedy behind the notes that eventually became replaced by so much safety and security. The way he arranged and played out the whole thing... it would be obvious to anyone that the song was referring to something deep. It would be obvious what it was about. And I found myself wanting to learn how to play even more now. I wanted to be able to play the song with him, to expose its full magnificence.

I thought about the song, its melody, its meaning. And I began to hum softly, thinking of every single emotion I've felt since my first ever interaction with Zayn. Even the very first interaction with him when I never even knew who it was. And I thought about how much he meant to me now.

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up, watching as it was opened up. Zayn's aunt stood there, taking in the scene before her before smiling slightly. The strange part was that I didn't really feel embarrassed by the obvious affection that was showing. She knew how I felt, and she knew how Zayn felt. Besides, eventhough Zayn was topless, I was fully clothed in a shirt and pajama pants. Both were Zayn's, but it was the thought that counted.

"Of course that boy isn't awake." She commented, looking over at Zayn and shaking her head, and I was surprised when Zayn began stirring, turning his body toward me and letting out a groan.

"If you're going to talk about me, I'd prefer if it wasn't while I was sleeping." He mumbled out, his lips gently moving against my skin with every word he spoke as he pulled me closer, hiding his face away in the crook of my neck. And now I was a bit embarrassed, but his aunt didn't seem to mind.

"It's true. He's usually not awake at this time. Guess he doesn't want to miss a minute with you." She teased, making my cheeks heat up a bit, but she continued on speaking. "Alright you two, I have to go pick up some art supplies. I made omelets, so you might want to hurry before they get cold. They're never as good heated up again." She said, stepping further into the room and pressing a kiss on Zayn's head, which was natural, but I was stunned as she did the same to me.

It was that type of parental reassurance that my mum couldn't give me. Not now. But maybe I wasn't even letting her.

"Love you both. Gotta run." She smiled before waving goodbye and walking out of the room. I was stuck in that same thought until I felt Zayn press a kiss to my neck.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked, suddenly feeling as if I'd been caught.

He pulled his face out of my neck and looked up at me, a sleepy smile on his face that I couldn't help but find absolutely endearing. It made me feel special to know that I made him this way. I was the reason behind his happiness just as he was the reason behind mine.

"Long enough to hear you hum my song." He admitted, and I let my eyes wonder away from his, looking at anything but him. They quickly shot back, however, as his hand lifted to my neck, his fingers gently running over the love bite he created on my neck, and I shivered at the intimacy.

"Never thought I'd get to mark you as mine." He confessed, looking up at me to see that I was already looking at him. The look in his eyes was dark. It was something bordering lust and love, and I felt the same pulsing emotions run through me.

I felt him kiss my neck, right over that same spot, and I gulped at the thought of having Zayn's lips all over me. "Y-you're aunt said not to take too long to eat." I managed to get out. Sure, I wasn't even hungry yet, but being alone with Zayn this way was dangerous. Because there was no hiding my desire for him. I knew that mentally I wasn't ready to actually do anything, but physically... that was a whole other story.

"We won't." He assured, and my protests got caught in my throat as he began to trail kisses down the column of my neck. All the way up to just below my ear, all the way down to where the curve of my skin met my shoulder. And I couldn't hold back my gasp of pleasure.

I allowed his lips to trail their way down toward my collar bones, my hands gripping onto his hair as he began to suck on my skin, creating mark after mark on the little parts of my exposed skin. And I shivered as his hands trailed down my sides, eventually running underneath the shirt I was wearing.

His eyes met mine as his thumbs rubbed delicately over the skin of my hips. "May I?" He politely asked, and I nodded, allowing him to lift up my shirt. I helped him take it off before he tossed it onto the floor, looking back at me with a smile on his face.

He leaned back up, pressing a quick peck on my lips, and I should've been afraid of such a fleeting kiss-- afraid like I always was-- but this was different. I wasn't scared he would leave. I knew he would stay. I knew how he felt about me, and that made my nerves stand at attention.

He began trailing kisses down my chest. Slow and languid. Because we didn't have to rush. There was no one to yell and threaten and say this was wrong. There was no one to hurt us and call us sins. Nobody else... only us.

"I love you." He stated as he began to press kisses to my stomach, and I could feel the tears in my eyes. Tears of pleasure. Tears of frustration. Tears of joy. Tears of longing. But I held them in and focused on my breathing as Zayn slipped his fingers underneath the top of the pajama pants I had on.

"Z-Zayn... I...." I trailed off, not knowing what exactly I wanted to say. I knew what I wanted, but I didn't want to succumb to the pleasure when everything else in our lives were so unstable at the moment. Things were fragile, and so were our hearts.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." He informed me, crawling back up my body and pressing a little kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes, feeling so overwhelmed with everything, and I was trying to get a grasp on my emotions.

"Do... do you want to?" I questioned, though I already knew the answer. I knew of Zayn's desires, but I also knew that he would push them aside in an instant if I said the word. I never had that kind of power before, and it was a lot to handle.

"I want to make you feel good. I always do. But it's not about what I want." He said, and I opened my eyes, seeing the sincerity his own pair held. "It's about what you're ready to do and whether or not you want to. It's about knowing you're comfortable. It's not about what I want. I won't ever make it that way." He vowed, and I knew he meant every word.

"Maybe it should be about what you want at times." I stated. Weren't all relationships about the giving and the taking? Not just the receiving.

He smiled at me, and I loved that smile. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do. No matter how I feel about it. I'm willing to go at whatever pace you need, princess." He spoke the words with so much truth, and I knew he meant it. He would try and stop the whole world if I wanted him to.

"I want to not be afraid of the feelings I get around you." I admitted, fighting the strong urge to look away from him. I wasn't use to being so candid and exposed. I don't think I ever will be.

Zayn nodded, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips, closed-mouth, but still so meaningful. And I knew that I was ready to take another step forward. I didn't have to be afraid of desire. I should let it course through my veins at this moment.

I pulled out of the kiss, keeping our foreheads together- an action that always calmed me down. "I w-want to try something." I said, my voice wavering- not due to uncertainty- in thought of the pleasure I knew was coming.

"Are you sure, princess?" He asked, looking for validation and sincerity. And I was sure. It was time to be brave.

"Please make me feel good, Zayn." I requested, looking straight into his eyes and seeing the way they visibly darkened-- pupils dilating and lips falling open just a bit.

And then I felt his lips on my skin again.

He trailed his way down my neck before reaching my chest, leaving love bite after love bite as I gripped onto anything I could to anchor myself. My fingers gripped onto his bed sheets as he trailed lower and lower, closer to the one area that was begging for attention. His lips were dancing along my skin carefully and expertly, almost mimicking the way his fingers would dance along the piano keys. With grace, devotion, and precision.

And I moaned aloud when I felt his teeth swipe against the sensitive skin of my waist, his fingers pulling at the top of the pajama pants to expose the skin. And my head was swimming in an ocean of bliss.

"Please." I breathed out, feeling as if all of my oxygen was escaping me. I forgot what it was to breath. All I could do was trust in my instincts.

I should have been embarrassed when the pajama pants came off, revealing nothing but inch after inch of unsullied skin, but I wasn't. Not with the way my mind seemed to focus on Zayn's hand stroking the skin of my bare thigh, leaving tingles that ran all over my skin. Not with the way he pressed another kiss to my hip bone and looked up at me with shades of adoration.

"You're beautiful, princess." He stated, leaving me breathless, and I felt myself relax as his hand reached out for mine, acting as the one thing that kept me sane as his lips moved down my thighs. Strawberry pink lips against sun-kissed gold.

"You're absolutely lovely." He complimented as soon as his lips reached the end of my left thigh, and a strangled noise left my lips upon the first kiss to the inside of my right thigh. The skin was a lot more sensitive, and I couldn't stop myself from crying out in satisfaction as he left kisses all the way up the inside of my thigh.

I could feel my legs shake uncontrollably, and I nearly lost myself as he decided to leave a love bite right where the skin of my thigh met the sensitive skin near my member. I felt myself nearing the brink of insanity, but nothing- nothing- prepared me for what happened next.

I felt Zayn kiss the tip of my cock, and I felt my while body freeze before warming over. He slowly lowered himself onto me, taking my whole length easily into his mouth, and I squeezed my eyes shut, throwing my head back as gasp after gasp escaped my lips. My free hand scattered to grip at the bed sheets, knuckles turning white in desperation as I felt my tip hit the back of his throat and Zayn stilled.

I opened my eyes, looking down at him to see his eyes closed as if this was too much for him as well. A whole different kind of overwhelmed, but he didn't seem to be struggling as he breathed steadily through his nose.

"F-fuck." I finally voiced, barely able to control the words that fled my mouth. "Please, Zayn. Please." I begged, but I had no clue what I was begging for.

He slowly pulled off of me, looking up at me with care and want. He reached out for my free hand before placing it in his hair. And my fingers instantly locked into place, feeling almost too natural.

"It's okay to let go." He assured. "It's okay to just... feel. You don't have to be embarrassed with me."

So I let myself lead with my emotions. And I didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed. I felt safe. Protected. Cared for in a way that should have been anything but how beautiful it actually was.

Zayn repeated his actions, taking me all the way down his throat, and I couldn't stop the way my fingers tugged at his hair desperately, the way I gripped his hand in mine, keeping him close but never fearing that he would disappear.

I marveled in the way Zayn's actions made me feel. A heat that was pooling on the inside of my stomach, something I've only felt with Zayn. And I let out a moan as I gave an involuntary buck into his mouth, hearing a slight gag before he regained his composure.

"Do it again. Lose control, princess." He whispered after pulling off of me, his voice already sounding wrecked. And I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Completely weightless and oxygen deprived. Light-headed but still breathing.

I felt him press a line of gentle kisses to my thigh before kissing up the length of my cock. "I'll keep you safe." He said. And I believed him.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt myself being enveloped by the warm, wet heat again. I was breathing erratically as I thrusted up into Zayn's mouth, meeting no resistance. And I trusted him to keep me together as I allowed myself to unwind.

"Z-Zayn... I-" I warned, feeling Zayn's grip tighten on my hand in reassurance, and I let myself go. Moans of his name fell from my lips as I gave him everything I had, and he swallowed it without hesitation.

He pulled off of me, kissing a single spot on my waist before pressing a kiss to the back of my hand in his. "Was that okay?" He asked, looking to me for verification, and I nodded lazily.

"Thank you." I mumbled, feeling spent as I came down from the high feeling, my eyes meeting Zayn's.

"You don't have to thank me. Ever." He stated, pulling my pajama pants back up before crawling over to lay beside me and pressing a kiss to my head. I turned my body, curling into his side as he held me close, and I couldn't help but want it to always be this way. Because it may not be perfect, but it was pretty damn close.

"I love you, princess." He reminded, and I felt my heart speed upon hearing those words I enjoyed so much. And I wanted to say it back, but my lips wouldn't listen to my brain. So I pressed a kiss to his chest, hoping he'd understand just how much he meant to me.

He was the sun to my moon, and I wouldn't be able to shine without him.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Zayn asked. We were outside of my house, his aunt agreeing to drop me off. I was nervous to confront my mum, but I knew I shouldn't let her suffer and worry anymore. No matter how badly I wanted to stay with Zayn forever, I knew I had to face this or I would never allow myself to conpletely let him in. I would never move on.

"I'm sure." I decided, trying to be brave for the second time today.

"Okay, I'll walk you to the door." Zayn said, and I couldn't help but think that was something a regular couple would do. Two people dating. But I still had no clue exactly what we were. A part of me didn't care because I knew we were each other's, but the other part of me- the more insecure part- needed that confirmation. Because we weren't friends. We were definitely more than friends. We were in love.

Zayn climbed out of the car, and I was about to do the same when Colette spoke up. "Things will be okay, sweetheart. And if something ever happens, our home is always open for you." 

"Thank you." I meant it. The gratitude I had for Zayn and his aunt was immense. I could never thank them enough.

"Of course, Liam." She smiled kindly at me, and I opened the car door, stepping out beside Zayn and closing it behind me.

I looked toward my house, remembering the night when the exterior walls flashed with blue and red lights, foul words spilling from my dad's lips like venom, tears of grief and regret pouring from my mum's eyes, and I felt myself freeze in my spot. The memories were so fresh and powerful.

"I've lived in the same house for years," I began, my eyes slowly tearing away from the picturesque house to look at Zayn, "but I've never felt safe in it."

He gave me a sad smile as he took my hand in his, kissing the back of it affectionately, and I felt warm fill me up inside. The small actions were affecting me like nothing ever has.

He pulled me along before I started walking beside him, my grip tightening on his hand as we walked closer to the front door. I knew my dad wasn't inside. I knew that, but it didn't change the fact that the house held so many haunting memories. It didn't change the fact that my blood stained the basement floor. And it didn't change the fact that what happened did in fact happen... but I couldn't let it control me.

We reached the door, and I turned to Zayn. I didn't know what to say because my mind was filled with thoughts and congested with nerves. I had no clue how this conversation with my mum would go, but I was hoping it would go well.

But there didn't need to be any words. It was as if he already knew what I was feeling. Of course he did. He always knew.

"It'll be okay," He comforted. He press a small kiss to my lips, and I didn't even think about the fact that his aunt probably saw. I was only focused on the amazing support and care Zayn was offering. "Text me how it goes, yeah?"

I nodded as he stepped back from the door, slowly letting go of my hand. We said our goodbyes, and he walked back to his aunt's car, climbing inside of the passenger's seat now, and I watched as they drove away.

I turned to the door and took a deep breath before I raised my fist to knock on the door. I waited patiently, but there was never an answer. I slowly turned the doorknob to find that the door was open.

"Mum?" I called out, stepping inside and closing and locking the door behind me. "Mum?" I called again, and I felt the exact same way as I did on that day when I found her in the basement. And my stomach dropped at the memory.

I rushed from room to room, finding the living room, kitchen, and dining room all empty. I turned, walking to the basement door, and I felt myself beginning to panic. I feared the things that went on down there. The hell underneath my house.

But I opened the door.

I walked down the steps, seeing the light on inside, but I didn't see my mum. The first thing that caught my eye was the bucket of soap and water on the floor. And I knew what happened. It was my mum's attempt at cleaning my blood from the floor; removing the dark memory that it came with. But it was unsuccessful.

I was even more worried now, just imagining how devastated and torn apart she probably was. I never took her feelings into consideration, and I was realizing how selfish that was. Was it wrong of me to just neglect her in my anger and hurt?

"Mum?" I called again, leaving the cold, empty basement and rushing up the stairs. I barged into her room to find it empty as well. There was really only one other place she would be. My room.

I walked down the hall, stopping in front of my bedroom. I pushed it open, my eyes instantly being drawn to the sleeping figure in my bed-- my mum.

I sighed as I stepped closer to her. She looked exhausted even in sleep. Her hair was in disarray, as if she's been fretting non-stop, and she probably has been. One of her hands was clutching her phone and the other was clutching onto something I haven't seen in a long time. A drawing from when I was in the first grade. A drawing of our family. Before I ever knew this pain.

I slowly pried her phone out of her hand, attempting to set it aside without waking her, but she began to stir. Her eyes opened, and I saw that she had been crying, red and puffy eyes being exposed. And she smiled at me, though she seemed deeply upset.

"You came back," She voiced, and her hand lifted to cup my cheek. I couldn't handle the tears that were building in her eyes as she lifted up my drawing.

"You drew this on the first day of school." She looked from ghe picture to me, a wavering smile on her lips. "We were so happy. I wish I could have kept us that way," She cried as the tears began to flow.

"Mum, it's alright. You didn't know." I was trying to console her, but she seemed so far gone, drowning in guilt and shame.

"I should have known. I should have. I'm your mum, and I should have protected you. I shouldn't have believed your lies when I saw the pain behind your eyes. I shouldn't have ignored... all the times you walked with a limp or had a bruise by your eye. I was never around long enough to ask why."

"But I should have told you. I shouldn't have been so ashamed and afraid. I should have told you when you asked, mum," I said, not liking the fact that she was blaming herself. I could handle all of the blame myself.

    "Liam, I love the idea of your father. Of who he was. The man I fell in love with. I don't love the monster he's become. I want you to know that." She gripped my hands in hers and looked me in the eyes, pleading for some type of forgiveness.

    "I know," I assured, not wanting her to suffer the way she was anymore.

    "You're my son. I love you, my Liam. And I'm going to do my best to be a better mother. I swear on it." She squeezed my hand as she said the words, a vow that I didn't know if she could keep, but I accepted her words.

     "I know," I repeated, feeling a type of emptiness within me. "Mum... let's get you to bed," I recommended, and she accepted my help as I guided her to her room.

    As soon as she laid down and fell back to sleep, I walked back to my room. I texted Zayn, letting him know that things were okay, but I wasn't truly sure if they were. My mum and I were both a mess, and I didn't know if I could handle helping to pick up her pieces as well.

    I sighed, walking back into my room and shutting the door. I went into the restroom, taking off my clothes to take a shower, and I froze as I saw all of the dark marks littered up and down my body, a reminder of the moment Zayn and I shared.

    The first was placed on my neck. A dark, purple mark that displayed who I belonged to. And that thought made my heart jump.

    The other marks began at my chest, trailing all the way down to my waist, all even spaces apart. And I couldn't help but smile at how loved I felt whenever I was around Zayn.

    My phone vibrated on the counter, capturing my attention. I lifted it to see that it was Zayn's reply.

     Okay. That's all I want. Goodnight, princess.

    They were simple words, but they were all I needed.

    And his goodnight sounded just as good as happily ever after. Maybe even better.


	43. Mess

I walked quietly to school, thinking about the ups and downs of my life within the past week. It was all a messy rollercoaster, a tangle of webs, but parts of it gave me nothing but clarity.

The ups were simple. My dad was no longer allowed to hurt me. I didn't have to see him. I didn't have to bleed anymore by his hands. I had a place where I felt at home. Maybe it wasn't my actual house, but it was better than nothing. It was a place I felt safe. I had people who loved me. Colette made me feel reassured through whatever trouble I was having, and she was my current mother figure. And Zayn....

Zayn was everything to me. He made me feel protected when I felt completely exposed. He made me feel sane when I was completely unstable. He loved me when I didn't even love myself. He loved me like I never knew I could be loved. He loves me. That was all I needed to know. And he treated me like royalty. As if I was above everyone and everything in his eyes. I never knew it was possible to value someone that way.

The downs in my life were few, but they were strong. My dad's hearing was in a few days, and I wasn't ready to face him again. I had no clue how to hold myself together in front of people that knew nothing of the horrors. I had no clue what I was even expected to say. All I knew was that I wanted him in jail. I wanted him to rot for the rest of his life in a cell.

Then there was my mum. I thought about how I went to check on her this morning, walking in to see her laying in bed, knocked out but seeming to have a nightmare. And I wondered if her nightmares were anything close to my own.

She was broken-- clearly. I don't think it's fully registered for her yet how truly evil the man she married turned out to be. I don't think she wants to accept the fact that her family was ruined. Her happy home was now the very wasteland that she wanted to escape. But if I had to face reality, she did, too.

I knew helping her pick herself up would take a while, but I wanted a home that felt as normal as possible. I longed for it. Me and my mum. I longed for the days ahead where we could just feel content. But we had a long road to travel before we reached our destination, and I was already feeling weary.

I was surprised when I reached the school building, completely stuck in my mind throughout the whole walk. I had no recollection of even reaching the street the school was on.

I walked inside of the big building, feeling immediately immersed in a prison myself. Because school wasn't that place you see on television shows. Where everyone knew everyone and drama happened between popular kids and the loners. No, school was a havoc of spirits. It was the place we were forces to go and spend eight hours only to forget the things we've learned within the week. It was a factory that attempted to create and send out perfectly capable human being into the world, but more than half of us were fucked up in some way. And they clung onto anyone's life that made theirs seemed less fucked up. The current news story being mine.

I walked down the halls, seeing looks of sympathy cross people's face, but I didn't want it. I still detested the fact that the same people who pushed me around had the nerve to feel sorry for me. I just wished that everyone would forget what happened and let me live a normal life.

"How are you?" I heard someone ask, and I realized I was stuck in my own mind again. I looked up to see Drew standing there, a slight smile on his lips.

"Um... good. I guess," I breathed out before walking around him and making my way to my locker. I knew that Drew and I were no longer on pure hatred terms, but we weren't friends. Acquaintances at most. But if I was being honest, his kindness made me cautious.

"Is it true, Liam?" He asked, following behind me, and I had no clue what he was talking about.

I made it to my locker, and I immediately opened it up. "I don't really know what you're talking about, so maybe clarify?" I suggested, taking off my bag and searching through it for books I wouldn't need for class.

"About, um, you. You and Zayn," He said, and I froze for a second. I completely forgot about that whole incident we had by the school's back fence. Of course Drew knew. He had to if Louis figured that out as well. The thing was, I didn't know how to respond. Would Zayn be okay with someone he disliked knowing this? He probably wasn't even thinking about anything else but me while he did what he did.

"What about us?" I asked instead, attempting to both dodge the question and find out what he thinks is going on between us. I turned back to my locker as he spoke.

"That you two are, well, I'm not really sure what you are. Together? I guess. You're a thing. Like, you care about him, he cares about you. In a way that... that a friend shouldn't care about their friend," He tried to get out, and it was pretty spot on. We didn't have a label, but I knew we were in love. Every part of my being told me so.

I sighed, knowing that there probably wasn't a way out of this questioning. Just as I was about to respond, however, I was interrupted by new voices.

"Hey, guys, it's Payne! Aww, and he's being all buddy-buddy with Drew." I knew the voice. It belonged to one of the many pricks that Zayn use to associate himself with. I had no clue if he even still spoke to any of them. I hope he didn't. They were ignorant fools, and they were completely homophobic. Not to mention that they really hurt Louis that day at lunch.

"What do you guys want?" Drew asked them, crossing his arms as he looked at them, but I stayed facing my locker, hoping they'd just go away if I didn't give them any attention.

"Nothing. We just came by to see our old friend here. How's it going, Liam?" The same jerk asked. I think his name was Kyle. I never really paid them much attention to know.

I ignored them, grabbing the book I'd need to class today and putting it into my backpack before zipping it up. I really wanted to just go away. I didn't want trouble when things were slightly getting better.

"Bro, he's probably still fucked up about his dad," Another guy said. It wasn't the comment that got me. No, I was use to everyone commenting on the new information on my home life. What got me was the laughter in his voice as he said it.

I turned to them, glaring at the idiot who spoke just now, but he only held a damn smirk on his lips, as if what he said was actually clever. As if he was proud of it.

"What's the matter, Payne? Did you lose brain cells while getting the shit beaten out of you?" Kyle asked, stepping closer to me. I didn't back away. I didn't want to seem weak, but I felt it. I felt the words slowly breaking me down inside. And I wondered how people could be so cruel.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Drew asked, sounding a bit angered by their words. I found myself glad that he was here, but he didn't help the panic that was building up inside of me as they continued their taunting.

"We're all friends here, right?" Kyle asked, false kindness lingering in the air. He looked back at the other guys, and I saw them nod in agreement. "So, Liam, we were just wondering," He smirked at me, "Why'd you hide all the bruises if you wanted it to stop?"

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even begin to describe all of the fear I felt. I couldn't make them comprehend how much control my dad had over me. And they wouldn't care. They wouldn't stop and think about how much the memories-- the scars-- still terrorized me.

"I find it hard to believe his mum didn't know," Another guys said, and I looked down at the ground, trying to stop the tears that threatened to flow by squeezing my eyes shut.

"I find it hard to believe that any of you actually give a shit," Drew spat out, and it was new for that anger and hatred to not be directed at me.

"Oh, no. We do care. Yeah, we care just as much as everyone else in this school. About how you nearly got beaten to death, how you probably cried yourself to sleep, and how you proved to be just as weak as we all knew you were." It was said with a new kind of disgust. One that I knew had no back story to it. He simply just hated me. And I wondered how people could hate another person without any reasoning.

"Aww, are you going to cry again. He's totally going to cry." I heard it from another asshole in their little group. And, sadly, he was right. The tears were building as so many memories played out in my head. I was nearly beaten to death. I did cry myself to sleep at times. And I was weak. Weak in my silence.

"Can you all just shut the fuck up and pull your heads out of your asses?" Drew voiced, stepping closer to Kyle, and I felt the tensions rise.

"Sorry, but when were we talking to you? Didn't know Payne needed a babysitter," He laughed, and I heard the rest join. A mocking laughter. One that rang through the halls as people began to look over, curious as to what was going on.

And they could all see. They could see the mess that was happening on the exterior without witnessing the horrific damage that I held inside of me. They saw the storm from the outside, but I was in the middle of the tornado, doing my best to stay calm in the eye.

But my limits were being reached, and all I felt was the crack of lightening surrounding me as the storm clouds rolled in. My heart pounded fast, sounding like thunder, and I snapped.

My fist collided with Kyle's jaw, and I watched as he stumbled back a bit, instantly cupping the injured skin. He chuckled deeply before looking up at me with hatred burning in his eyes. "That's how you wanna play. Little bitch," he sneered before swinging back.

I saw Drew try to get involved, but the other guys had the same idea. Five of them, two of us.

I felt pain errupt through me as his fist landed one to my cheek. It was a sting I haven't felt in a while, but I quickly came back from it, aiming for his nose. He ducked back, but it was a bit too late, and I was in shock as blood began to flow, though it wasn't broken.

He groaned in pain before coming back to me, his fist colliding with my stomach, and I doubled over, attempting to stop the pain, but I couldn't. Not as I felt two of the other guys holding me back, pining me to the lockers. I looked over at Drew, seeing the same outcome for him as well. We were outnumbered, and we lost.

"Fucking loser," Kyle insulted, throwing another punch to my chest, and it felt like the wind was knocked out of me. Everything was all a blur as I began to panic, remembering the way the chains on the basement wall held me with the same tight grip I was currently in. And I was hopeless. I was left there to suffer and drown in my own blood.

"What the hell is going on here?" I heard the one voice that calmed me down. My vision cleared a bit as I looked over to see Zayn standing there, pure anger on his features. And I realized that I never experienced Zayn's true anger. Because he was never truly angry at me. But now... he looked beyond pissed.

"Zayn! We were just about to have some fun with your favorite toy," Kyle smirked, looking between Zayn and I, and I knew he was waiting for Zayn's approval; for him to make the first move.

"Why would he think it's funny when he ditched you guys to eat lunch with Louis and Liam?" Drew pointed out, giving a small chuckle. I could tell he was hurt as well. There was a bit of an edge to his tone, as if he was holding the pain all in, and it made me wonder if they ganged up on him before holding us down.

Kyle gave him a glare, not responding to the question, and it made me wonder whether he was aware of how stuoid his actions were or if he was just plain ignorant. Or maybe he was in denial. In denial that the guy he looked up to wasn't the total dickhead he appeared to be.

"Dude, check out his neck," One of the guys holding my arms commented, and Kyle's eyes drifted to the love bite that marked my skin. I knew I should have covered it for school, but it never crossed my mind as I dressed this morning.

"What do we have here? Payne's getting some action?" He asked in a teasing manner, and I wanted to kick out at him, but I knew it'd be futile. "No way. Doubt anyone would want to get near him," He said. Stupid comments. One after the other. But nothing was worse than his next choice of words.

"Or maybe his daddy gave it to him. Is that why you never told on him?" He asked, and it disgusted me what he was implying. It made me hate him even more, but my anger only rose as I saw Zayn's face.

The words clearly impacted him. His eyes had a distant look in them; a crease in his brow as he suffered through whatever memories that played through his mind. And I knew they were memories of his dad. The way he made him feel worthless and completely helpless. The way he stole away the most important thing to him. The thing that made him pure... until he saw himself as tainted throughout. A sin.

And before I could even blink, Zayn was pinning Kyle to the lockers, the other guys loosening their grips on my arms in shock of the turn of events. And I saw the darkness in Zayn's eyes.

"You think that's fucking funny?" He spat, and I could feel the anger radiating off of him. It was immense, and I knew he was losing himself in that dark hole of the past. "Do you fucking think it's funny!?" He yelled, slamming his hand against the locker, and I saw fear in Kyle's eyes.

"Zayn, man, it was just a joke. Chill out," Another one of the guys said, and I was freed from my restraint as they stepped away from me, cautiously stepping toward Zayn to try and calm him down.

"It's not a joke. It's not a fucking joke. Don't you dare call that a joke," He warned, danger spilling out with every word, and I knew he was becoming unstable. The emotions were consuming him. And I knew that things like this were the reason behind Zayn's stone cold exterior. He became numb so that nothing would make him lose himself again.

"O-okay. I'm sorry, bro. Didn't think you'd care so much about a loser," Kyle said, and they were the wrong words to say.

Zayn slammed him against the locker again, the sound echoing down the halls, and a huge crowd was forming now. I saw the look in Zayn's eyes. I could tell that he was seeing red, wanting nothing more than to cause unbearable pain. And as much as Kyle deserved it, I couldn't let Zayn spiral out of control. He'd be devastated with himself.

"I should fucking bash your face into this locker and show you what pain is. I should twist your goddamn arm so far that it almost breaks and show you what it's like to crumble. I should beat you fucking senseless and ignore your pleas to stop so you understand what it's like to be helpless and weak at the hands of the person causing you agony," He spoke, and it hurt when I saw angry tears beginning to pour down his cheeks.

"Zayn...." I trailed off, stepping closer to him and placing my hand over his. And he slowly allowed me to pull it away from where it was pinning Kyle down. He turned to me, and my heart broke at the look in his eyes.

There was the obvious anger. It was clear to see. It was prominent in his tone, in the way his hands were balled into fists, and the way he was breathing heavily to keep himself calm. Then there was fear. The fear of the past? The fear of the present? I couldn't tell, but it was deeply rooted within him. It's what caused his hand to shake in mine. And there was pain. So much of it. Massive waves that knocked down whatever dam he built up inside of him. And it was all spilling out. It was obvious in the tears on his cheeks. Obvious in the way he closed his eyes for a moment to try and hide it away.

I didn't know what to say because I really didn't know what was going on in his mind. I knew there were memories, but I had no clue how much they truly affected him. And I didn't want to tell him things would be okay because I don't think his memories would ever be okay.

But I didn't have to speak because Zayn did instead.

"Did you dad ever...?" He trailed off, the question lingering on his tongue, and I saw the way his eyes couldn't meet mine. I knew he would be devastated if I said yes, so I was thankful that I didn't have to.

"No," I admitted, his eyes finally meeting mine. "No, Zayn. He never did," I promised. I saw a bit of relief fall upon his features as his hand lifted to cup my cheek, and my heart was beating a thousand beats per second as I realized we were still in a crowd full of people. But none of that mattered. Only Zayn did.

His eyes traveled down to my cheek where a bruise would form. I knew there was probably a red mark from Kyle's fist, but it didn't bother me. I was use to physical pain, but Zayn's emotional pain must've been worse.

His eyes held anger and sadness as he spoke. "I should fucking kill him for hurting you," He seethed. His thumb lightly trailed along the red mark on my cheek as his eyes met mine again.

"He's not worth it," I said, feeling how low my voice was. Because I was afraid. Afraid of this moment that we were having in front of everyone. Afraid of how I realized that I cared more for Zayn than I did about anything else. Afraid of how important I seemed to him as well. Afraid of how he seemed to value me over himself. How he seemed to supress his memories to worry about my well-being.

"Yeah," He nodded, swallowing before taking a deep breath out, trying to calm his temper. I knew he was trying to convince himself of that as well; trying to hold back his urge to make him feel unimaginable pain.

"What the hell is going on? Zayn, are you, like, gay or something?" Kyle asked, and I felt Zayn squeeze my hand. And I still didn't know if he was okay with showing the world who he was.

"Do you want to go? We don't have to stay here," I pointed out. I didn't want him to be around all of these people if he felt like it was too much. I couldn't imagine what the inside of his head looked like at the moment-- what thoughts were traveling through his mind.

I got no response, however, and that worried me.

"Zayn," I said again, almost begging him to answer me. I didn't want him to just shut down again. Call it selfish, but I wanted him here. I didn't want to have to fight to break through his walls again. I didn't want to be thrown back into the cold. I don't think my heart could handle that. So I began to ramble, forgetting that we were surrounded by people in my concern.

"I- I know this is a lot, okay? I know that your mind is probably full of so many awful thoughts, but it's okay. You've fought through it before, and I know you're strong, Zayn," I said frantically, and I almost froze as his eyes met mine. They held a deep look of appreciation and love, and I became nervous.

"We can leave if you need to. I can call your aunt. I can go get Louis. Or I could-"

"I don't need them," Zayn said, his voice much more controlled than mine was. His tone was even stronger than mine was.

"Okay," I simply said, looking into his eyes and searching for even a hint to what he was thinking, "what do you need?"

I watched as a soft smile formed on his lips. A small little curve of his lips that I found adorable and hot at the same time. Something that held more emotion than I thought a smile could. His hand lifted up to my cheek, eyes displaying so much love that I felt my knees grow weak.

And my whole world froze as his lips met mine.

I ignored the gasps of horror, the cries of shock, and the multiple sounds of disgust. I ignored it all. My senses were focused on Zayn. His scent, his taste, his touch. He was keeping me anchored, but I think I was doing the same for him.

"I love you," He declared as he pulled away, and I nodded, my eyes still closed, lost under his spell.

And I was afraid to open my eyes. Afraid of the judgment, the hatred, the disgust that I would see in the sea of people surrounding us. I wanted to remain hidden underneath the water, not float back to the surface.

    "No one's going to hurt you. I won't let them," Zayn said, and I slowly opened my eyes, my anxiety reaching its peak as I looked over his shoulder to see all of the stares of the crowd, and my hand tightened its hold on Zayn's.

    "Just look at me, yeah?" Zayn whispered, and it took all of my strength to rip my eyes from the crowd and shift them to Zayn's. They were such a beautiful shade of brown with almost amber colored flecks, and they currently held so much care and adoration.

     "I don't want to be here," I managed to voice, finding it amazing how the tables turned.

    "We'll go. We have to go find Louis anyway," Zayn said, squeezing my hand before turning back to Kyle, who had a confused look on his face. And  knew most people probably felt the exact same way.

    "You're so fucking lucky I didn't just beat the shit out of you right now," Zayn snarled, and I squeezed his hand again, attempting to keep him calm. He stepped toward Kyle and continued speaking. "But if you ever- if anyone ever lays a finger on him again- I won't hesitate to break your whole hand."

    His eyes and his words held truth, and I didn't know if I should feel afraid or safe. But Kyle nodded, and Zayn turned, leading me away. I turned back, seeing Drew break away from all of them as well, giving me a nod to let me know he was okay. I nodded back, thanking him for not cowering away and attempting to help.

    My eyes drifted over to Kyle, who as still rubbing his face that was sure to bruise. And his eyes met mine, a look of pure anger. And something told me that revenge was his best friend.

    I turned back to Zayn, walking faster behind him until I as close to his back. We turned a corner, and he stopped walking. My head pressed against his back, and I heard him sigh before turning to me, making me lift my head to look up at him.

    "Are you really okay?" He questioned gently, his hand squeezing mine as his other lifted up to my cheek. His forehead met mine, and I nodded, still in a state of shock at the events that just occured.

    "Okay. Let's go find Louis and get to class," He said, turning to walk on, but I pulled him back. He turned to me with concern, but I was fine.

    "Are you okay?" I voiced, knowing that what was said truly affected him. He couldn't have just shrugged it off. I didn't want him to just push it aside like it was nothing. "Zayn?" I asked as he stood quietly.

    "I will be," He promised, kissing my knuckles before giving me a reassuring smile. And I was still worried, but there was nothing I could do to help right now.

    Maybe both of us were still trying to suppress parts of our lives, and maybe it would take a while to get past all of our obstacles, but there was one thing I knew.

     There was no one else I'd rather face the world with-- as scary as the realization was.


	44. Wither

"I wish I was there. Maybe I could have helped," Louis sighed as we sat at the lunch table. I filled him in on the details of this morning since Zayn only told him not to ask about the bruise on my face that was forming throughout the day. It hurt, but I've been through much worse.

    "It's fine, Louis. It wasn't as bad as it seemed. I was just worried about Zayn," I admitted. I didn't care about the bullying-- I dealt with it almost all of my life. I didn't care about the punches I took-- they would only bruise me. I only cared about the affect those words that left Kyle's mouth had on Zayn. He said he would be fine, but he's been so quiet all day.

     "I am, too," Louis agreed, taking a drink of his water. He set it back down and sighed, looking up at me. "He wasn't talking at all in class. He just sat there with this distant look in his eyes. He was in deep thought. And I wish I knew how to help him out of it. For his best friend, I'm not exactly sure what's wrong with him. I feel like there's something I'm missing," He confessed.

   There was. Because Louis didn't know about Zayn's father. Zayn never told him. He knew that he was angry about a "joke" Kyle made about me, but he had no clue that it actually hurt Zayn; that it led to so many haunted memories. And I wanted to tell him, but I knew it was something Zayn would have to do himself.

   Our conversation ended as Zayn joined the table, sitting right next to me, which was new. He would usually sit beside Louis, but I couldn't help but like this better. Even if it made me hyperaware of the stares we received.

     "Has anyone told you anything today?" He immediately asked, taking my hand in his, and butterflies errupted in my stomach as I shook my head. He gave a small smile of relief, and I felt breathless as he left a peck on my lips, making me jump a bit in shock. I don't think I would ever get use to the public display of affection.

    "Good," He said, "Just tell me if anyone does." I nodded, too many thoughts rolling around my head. I didn't expect such a huge amount of drama and events to happen today. I didn't know how to feel about it all, but I knew that Zayn was still bothered by it all. Because even if he was speaking and smiling at me, I knew him well enough to see the hurt behind his eyes.

     I was about to give a verbal response and ask him if he was sure he would be okay, but we were interrupted as Drew walked up to our table, seeming timid about it. He looked down at his feet, standing there for a few seconds before he looked up at the three of us.

    "So, I know I've been an ass since... well, since I've arrived at this school, but I was wondering if I could sit with you guys," He said, and it was obvious he was pushing himself to do this. His eyes shifted to Zayn, and I knew it was because Zayn didn't like him. His approval would be the hardest to win over.

     Louis just shrugged, not really caring about whether he sat or not, and I always did my best to be friendly, so I would let him. But Zayn sat quietly, glaring at him and making him chuckle awkwardly.

    "He helped me this morning," I pointed out, knowing that things could have possibly been a lot worse if Drew wasn't there. I would hate to have had all five guys on me and me alone.

    Zayn looked at me before sighing. He looked back at Drew and nodded. "Fine. You can sit with us. But I don't trust you, and I don't like you. So watch yourself," He clarified, and Drew nodded quickly, like a child getting reprimanded for his actions.

     He sat beside Louis, keeping a bit of space between them, and I knew he was trying not to push it. He knew Louis wasn't such a big fan of him, either, but he was attempting to be nice, and I had a feeling Harry's influence was rubbing off on him.

     "So...." Drew spoke, drawing out the 'o' and trying to break the awkward tension. 

    "I'm sorry for punching you in the face the other day," I apologized. It was the only thing I could think to say right now. I didn't want to get into Zayn's past while we were in public; especially not in this school. And I did notice the slight bruise formed on his face.

    "Don't be. I deserved it, and it's fine if it made you feel better," He shrugged off, sending a smile my way, and I smiled back, but I didn't miss the way Zayn's glare grew darker upon the little interaction. He stayed silent, though, and began eating his food.

    "Also, um, Zayn," Drew voiced, and I held my breath as Zayn looked up at him. The look in his eyes was just daring him to say something that would get him into trouble. But that wasn't what happened.

     "I'm sorry. About the rumors going around," He said, and I think we were all a little confused.

     "What rumors?" Zayn asked. His grip on my hand grew, and I tried to calm him down, running my thumb over his knuckles to help relax the tension.

     "Oh, you... didn't know," Drew said awkwardly, as if he didn't want to be the one to say it. "I mean, it's probably better if you didn't know-"

    "Tell me what the fuck people are saying about me," Zayn demanded, "Is it that I'm gay or some shit? Because I think that's pretty fucking obvious now," He added, holding up our hands as a backup for his words.

   "N-no. They're saying that, well, with the way you acted this morning-- after Kyle said what he did-- they're saying that you were, um, sexually abused..." He looked at me nervously as he trailed off, "by your dad," He finished.

     And I looked at Zayn after feeling his hand go slack in mine. The look on his face was one of utter defeat, and then I saw all of his emotions fade away. He was trying to block out all feeling. It was his only defense against the past. Feel nothing or feel it all at once, and that worried me more than anything.

    He stared blankly at his tray of food, and the atmosphere around us seemed drowned out and faded into the background. I could only imagine what he must be feeling; what thoughts must be drifting around his mind. Because the rumors were cruel. They were a disgrace to start. But sadly, they weren't rumors at all. They were true.

     "Zayn-" I spoke up, trying to spur some emotion back into him. I didn't like when he shut down. He turned cold and mean and numb. He was a shell of who he actually was.

   He looked up, his eyes locking onto mine before traveling around the cafeteria, seeing just how many people were actually staring at us, seeing the whispers they would openly give, and I saw the way his jaw clenched as his eyes finally made their way to his old table. Kyle and all of the guys sat, talking and laughing with each other, as if nothing even happened this morning.

    "Who started the rumors?" Zayn asked, voice sharp and authoritative. His eyes never left the table that he use to feel welcome at.

     "Zayn, I don't think-" I tried, tugging on his arm to try and capture his attention. I needed to calm him down.

    "Who started the fucking rumors!?" He shouted, standing up and banging on the table, shaking all of our trays and causing all of us to jump in fright. But I wasn't afraid of Zayn. I was just really worried about him. I was surprised he was slipping under so quickly, but I should have known. He thought he left it all behind, but he only suppressed his feelings. He did his best to snub out the fire, but there were a few embers left to burn.

    "Zayn, he doesn't know!" I called out, seeing the terrified look on Drew's face. Louis looked confused, and I knew he probably felt useless to his best friend right now, but I also saw the gears turning in his head, slowly piecing everything together. All of the missing pieces of Zayn's life.

    Zayn looked at me, his eyes showing so much defeat and fear. It wasn't a combination that he should have at all. And it became worse as he looked around the cafeteria, seeing multiple eyes on him. He looked back at Drew, swallowing thickly before he said, "Thanks for letting me know," in a low, broken voice.

    He grabbed his stuff and walked away, leaving out of the cafeteria doors, and I had to make sure he was okay.

   I grabbed my stuff, standing up to go, but Louis stopped me. He grabbed my arm, and I turned to him, seeing the concern and desperation in his eyes. He seemed completely lost in the dark about what was going on with his best friend, and I understood his confusion.

    "What the hell just happened, Liam?" He demanded. His eyes searched mine for some type of answer, and I don't know what he found, but a look of horror crossed his features.

    "I'll talk to you later." It was all I could say as I pulled out of his grip and chased after Zayn. I found it somewhat surreal how the tables have turned. Usually he was chasing me. Usually I was the ticking time bomb and he was the one offering me a sense of sanity. Usually I was the one shutting him out, and now I wanted nothing more than for him to open up to me. Even if it was selfish and hypocritical.

    "Zayn!" I called, chasing him out of the front doors of the school. I ran as fast as I could, feeling breathless as I finally reached where he stood, waiting for me upon hearing me call out his name.

    I walked around him, coming face to face with him, and my heart tore as I saw his face.

    He wore a smile, but it was sad. It was broken. It was a mirror that shattered. It was put back together by someone's hand, but there were still visible cracks. And one wrong move made the cracks grow. So close to shattering again and cutting up everything in its path. And there were tears.

    Tears that spilled down his cheeks as he gave out a heartbroken chuckle. And I noticed the way he was shaking. His hands trembled at his sides. He was fall apart at all of the edges, and I didn't know if I was enough to pull him back together.

    "Everyone knows," He laughed humorlessly. His eyes filled to the brim with liquid, tears of ruin dripping down his face. And I felt myself losing my resolve, but I had to be strong for him. Just like he was always strong for me.

    "Zayn, they don't know anything. They just want a story. They want to get this reaction out of you-" I tried, and he cut me off, his hands running through his hair as he shook his head.

    "But it's not just a story, Liam! It's my life!" He cried, his voice cracking and breaking upon almost every syllable. "It's the one thing I wanted to bury away forever. It's the only thing that I can never fucking escape because he's still here, dammit! He's sitting down behind fucking bars, living and breathing perfectly fine, getting life when he took mine away!"

    He was frantic. And I saw all of his walls tumbling down. His breathing began to become uncontrollable as he lost himself in the torment. He was slowly becoming consumed into his mind; the memories left there. And I shook my head, trying to hold back my tears at seeing him so lost within himself.

     "Zayn," I spoke, my voice wavering as I took a step toward him. I lifted my hand to his cheek, lifting his face until he was looking at me, and I saw too much.

    I saw through the windows of his eyes and straight into the desolate house within. I saw the shame that he carried because he still saw himself as a waste. He thought he was worthless, and I should have always reassured him that he wasn't. I saw the everyday agony that festered up inside of him. It was building and pouring out from all of the seams. I saw the loss of a life that wasn't fully lived due to years of abuse. I saw the resentment he felt toward himself. The way he thought he wasn't good enough, that he was a mistake, that he didn't deserve a single good thing inside. But what truly killed me is that underneath it all, his stare still held so much love within it.

    Love that was tugging at his heartstrings in an attempt to unbind them. Love that was an ever-running faucet, filling him up inside; higher and higher. Love that he gave unconditionally, regardless of my silence on the matter. Love that seemed to both sting his lungs but help him breath. The same display of love that ran through my veins for him.

    "You're more just your past," I began, feeling stronger now that I knew just how much I wanted to help him through all of this. I wanted him to smile because I couldn't see the light in my own eyes without it. "And it's okay to feel the way you do, but it's not okay to trap it all inside and just try and wish it away," I said, and I felt him attempt to look away, but I turned him back to me, resting my forehead on his because it was the most intimate action I could think of. It was something that we've both grown accustomed to.

     "Please don't shut me out," I requested, closing my eyes as I allowed myself to feel every single emotion that radiated off of him. It was so much. An immense wave of everything he's kept bottled in. All of his secret emotions that he never dared to share for fear of judgment.

     I felt him give out a shaky breath, and he lifted his hands. One moved to wrap around my waist while the other was placed on the side of my neck, as if he was trying to keep me here. As if he was worried I would run away or disappear or leave him behind. But I wouldn't. I couldn't anymore.

     "Princess, I...." He trailed off, taking in a deep breath, and I opened my eyes, looking into his tear-filled ones and nodded my head, letting him know it was okay to say whatever was on his mind. Letting him know that I was there for him.

     He gulped down all of his nerves and did his best to steady his voice, but he didn't have to seem so composed around me. There was no need.

     "I'm suppose to defend you, princess," He began, vulnerability pouring out in his words. "I'm suppose to be strong for you, but I- I can't always be your knight in shining armour. How can I when I have so many dents?" He chuckled sadly.

    "Who said anything about shining armour?" I pointed out. It was an essential I didn't need. And I wanted to make that clear to him.

     "I don't want perfection, Zayn. Even if you're the closest thing to perfect in my eyes, I don't want you because of that. I need you because you are the only person I've ever felt connected with. After years and years of shutting myself down, you brought me back to life. So I'll take rusted up armour over shiny gold because it's what we are. We're dented and scratched and bent, but mendable. I want to protect you how you protect me. I want to be the person you always turn to, and if that means that your pain is mine and mine is yours, then dammit, I'll take it all," I expressed, never breaking eye contact once, and it was terrifying that I meant every single word without ever thinking about them before they tumbled out. I knew they were true. They were straight from the heart. The heart that he owned.

     "I don't want the Zayn Malik that everyone else thinks they know. I don't want the 'bad boy' who ran the school. I want the guy I know. The one stuck in the torment of his own mind, hurting for himself and others, yet finding a way to both make my blood boil through my veins with every word said and freeze my heart with every kiss. I want this. Us. And nothing can change that. Not your past, not what people know. You have me and I have you, right?" I reminded, lightly rubbing my hand along the expanse of his cheek as I looked from eye to eye.

    And I saw a small, genuine smile form on his lips.

    "I love you so much, princess," He whispered, lips meshing together with mine in a loving, broken, and salty kiss. But it was pure perfection to me.

    We broke apart after a second, and I kept our foreheads together, keeping my eyes closed as I thought about the words I wanted to say back. And my heart froze, my throat formed a lump in it, and I felt a rush of anxiety sweep over me as I opened my mouth. Then, the school bell sounded from behind Zayn, and I looked over his shoulder to see students walking about, many giving us weird stares.

    I didn't know whether to be thankful for the bell or to be disappointed in myself for fearing the words.

     I felt Zayn tense up, and I shook my head, pressing another kiss to his lips to comfort him. "Let's go," I said, holding his hand and walking away from the school. I'd worry about detention and trouble later.

    "Where are we going?" He asked, his voice low and depressed. He stared at the ground as we walked, and it wounded me like nothing ever before.

    "Home," I answered quietly, and then my eyes widened as I realized what I just said aloud. Zayn seemed to notice, too, as his head snapped up to look at me. "I-I mean your home," I corrected, averting my eyes from him intense gaze.

    I felt him step closer to me, looking into my eyes as he said, "You can call it home. I like the way that sounds."

    I nodded as I gulped under his stare. And then he sighed.

    "Can we go to your house instead? I don't want my aunt to see me this way. I don't want her to worry," He requested, and I knew I would bend to his will. I'd do whatever he asked.

    "If that's what you want," I whispered, and he gave a soft, adorable smile before pressing his lips to mine once more.

    And the words I couldn't bring myself to say played like a taunting mantra in my head. 'I love you, I love you, I love you.' Why couldn't I just spit it out?

    I had no clue why the words still burned through my mind with fear, but I didn't want to leave Zayn constantly feeling like his love was unrequited.

     So, I lifted my hand over where his lay on my cheek, and I formes the outline of a heart with my finger. A heart with only his name in it.


	45. Lovers

I walked into the restroom, and made my way over to the sinks. My hands were covered in blue, green, and yellow paint. We were painting landscapes in art class, and I may have made a bit of a mess.

I turned on the sink, pouring mounds of soap into my hands until it filled up my palm. I scrubbed and scrubbed until I realized that some of the paint had dried, and it would fade a bit, but it would stay lathered on my skin for awhile. They looked like colorful, grotesque bruises on my hands.

I sighed before turning the sink off. I made my way over to dry my hands with the paper towels, and I froze once I heard a choked sound. Like a sob that someone was trying to hold in. And I turned to the stall doors, seeing that one of them was closed.

I bent down a bit until I saw that someone was sitting on the ground of the stall. Blue jeans and white shoes. That was all I could see, and I heard sniffles sound through the restroom, almost echoing as another cry was let out.

I frowned. I never liked the idea of anyone hurting. Some may say I was too sensitive, but I just didn't like when others felt bad or when someone was crying. Tears were my weakness. They compelled me to do anything to make the person crying want to smile.

"Hello?" I called out, my voice sounding louder than usual in the silent restroom. It almost made me cringe to hear my voice so full and booming. I wasn't much of a talker, so hearing my voice sound so prominent was unusual.

"Um, I know you're there," I said as I stepped toward the locked stall, tapping gently on the door as I heard the person try to stifle their cries. "Are you okay?"

I heard more sobs erupt from behind the stall door, and I knew I should get back to class, but I didn't want to leave this person all alone. So, I dried my hands on my jeans and sat criss-crossed infront of the stall.

"My name's Liam. What's yours?" I questioned, waiting patiently for a reply, but I never received one. Whoever this person was, something very upsetting was going on in their life, and they didn't want anyone to know who they were.

"What's happened?" I pressed, desperate to get any sort of response so that I could help them with their situation. I didn't want to walk away if I had a chance to make someone feel better.

But I never got a response. I only heart soft cries escape the person's mouth, and if I looked close enough, I could see teardrops fall onto the tiled floor and form small circles of water beside the boy in the stall. I've never seen anyone cry so much, and I had a scary feeling that something really tragic was going on in their life.

I leaned forward, pressing my hand on the stall door as I got closer. I closed my eyes as I listened to their crying, trying to figure out a way to provide comfort when I had no clue what was even going on to cause them to react this way.

"I don't know why you're crying, but it's okay to let it all out," I began, trying to speak softly so my voice wouldn't fill the whole room again. I don't think that would be a good way to comfort anyone.

"You probably feel lonely, don't you?" I questioned, watching as I heard sniffles begin to die down, and a hand came to rest onto the floor behind the stall. Small fingers were all I noticed. "But you're not alone. People care. I care, and I'm here. Eventhough I don't know who you are, I know that you don't deserve whatever's going on. Nobody deserves to cry."

I listened silently as the other person moved around a bit, the small hand leaving the probably wipe away leftover tears. I smiled as I realized that I was actually helping.

"I'm here," I repeated, "and I'm not just going to leave you. So, I'll wait with you. And you can cry. I won't mind. But I'll be here for comfort. Support. Anything," I said, reaching my hand beyond the stall. "You can hold my hand if you want. Just promise not to squeeze too hard," I joked.

I heard a small laugh from the stall, and I was suddenly smiling wider than ever before. It felt good to help somebody, even if he was a total stranger.

I felt his hand fall into mine. It was small, warm, and soft. He seemed fragile in this moment, but I would not mistake his vulnerability for weakness. He was probably stronger than he seemed. The crying ones were always stronger than the ones who held it all back. That's what my mum said anyway. I still wasn't sure if I believed it.

I felt him rubbing at certain spots on my hand, and I laughed this time. "It's just paint. I'm not exactly neat when it comes to painting. On the bright side, if I would have never gotten paint on me, I would have never met you," I said.

I wonder how long he would have been in here crying if nobody ever came to help.

I heard the restroom door open up before a voice yelled, "Liam, hurry up! We're all hanging our paintings to dry!" The door closed after that, but I didn't mind. I didn't know the kid, so I knew that the teacher was the one to send him. She was always hoping I would actually speak to someone and make new friends.

I turned back to the boy in the stall, and I sighed. "I guess I have to get back to class," I began, getting nothing but his silence in return.

"Remember that you're not alone. I'm here for you if you ever want it," I reminded, and just before I attempted to pull my hand away, I felt him squeeze mine tightly with his smaller one. And it wasn't as if he was scared of me leaving. No. It was a way to show that he would remember my words forever, and a way to say thank you.

I smiled again and squeezed back before I let go, my hand feeling cold immediately. I ignored the weird feeling though, and I walked toward the restroom door, but stopped before I could leave.

"Maybe we can be friends... if you want," I said, "I'd really like to know your name." Again, I got no reply, and it was understandable, even if it upset me.

"Okay, well, if you ever see me around and want to say hi, just say it," I informed. I could honestly use that on some days. It was hard to feel so outcasted from everyone else. "Goodbye."

I opened the door and walked out of the restroom, making my way back to art class. And for the rest of the day, I questioned two different things.

One: who was the boy from the stall? Two: What made him so upset?

*****

I looked at where Zayn's hand laid beside mine, resting against his bare chest. It was slightly bigger than my own now, though thinner, as opposed to back then. He was smaller then. More vulnerable.

I listened as Zayn took small intakes of breath. He was sleeping now, having tired out from the exhaustion of crying. And I couldn't help but think back to that one-sided conversation when we were young. Where we first met, even if I had no clue who he was.

I thought about what could have happened to him that morning or that night before to cause that reaction out of him, and every thought hurt more and more. Because I knew it had to do with his father, and I never knew that. I never knew that boy needed serious help, not just some speech for comfort.

I heard the front door to the house open, and I knew my mum was home. I pressed a kiss to Zayn's cheek before I carefully untangled myself from him. I kicked the covers off of myself, making sure he still had blanket on, before climbing out of bed. I walked to the door, pulling it open and walking out to meet with my mum.

I walked into the living room to see her setting down her purse before sitting onto the couch. Her head instantly fell into her hands, and I heard her sigh sleepily. She's been doing her best to work extra hours to keep up with all of the bills, and I was thinking about getting a job to help out. I knew she wouldn't like it, but I wanted to do whatever I could to make this whole healing thing easier.

"Mum," I called out, seeing her jump a bit in fright before turning to look at me.

"Oh, hello, Liam. I'll make dinner in a while. Just need to rest my eyes," She said, going back to her previous position. I could clearly see how exhausted he was, and what was one night without a decent meal? I was never hungry anymore, but I knew I should eat. Maybe I'd make Zayn and I some sandwiches and leave an extra for when my mum woke up.

"I can take care of that. Why don't you sleep, yeah?" I suggested, stepping closer to her and seeing her rub her eyes as she yawned.

"I suppose it would be best. I have to be up early tomorrow morning, though if I want to get some grocery shopping time in," She thought aloud, standing from the sofa and walked toward me, going to the hallway.

"I'll do the shopping after school tomorrow. Don't worry about it, mum," I offered.

She smiled at me before walking up to me and patting my cheek gently. "You're such a lovely son, Liam. Thank you," She said, pulling me into a small hug before moving back toward the hallway.

"Oh, and, Zayn is here. Is it okay if he spends the night? He's exhausted as well," I informed, not wanting to discuss his situation in any way.

"Of course, dear. Just make sure he texts his aunt," She said, looking down the hall as she thought aloud, "She seems like a nice lady. We should all have dinner together some time." 

She yawned once more before finally saying goodnight and walking to her room. I followed a distance behind, seeing her shut the door behind her, and I made my way back to my room, seeing Zayn in the exact same position I left him in.

I shut my door before making my way back to bed. I crawled back under the covers, curling up beside Zayn and resting my head back onto his chest. I pressed a small kiss there, and I sighed as the same memory of the restroom popped into my head again.

It must've been some kind of destiny that I was the one who discovered him crying that day. It must have been some kind of faith for us to fall the way we did. It happened to suddenly, but it seemed to natural. Even the way we fit together now, it all seemed like a giant puzzle piece that was slowly being completed.

Some of the shapes were awkward, some needed to be forced together, but our pieces seemed to instantly click together. Minimum restrain, but a whole lot of pain.

I heard a whimper sound from Zayn, and I leaned back, looking up at his face to see that it was scrunched up, like something awful was occurring. He began to whine and thrash around, and I knew it was a nightmare. But what made it even worse was that I knew it could also be more than a nightmare-- a memory.

"Zayn, wake up," I called out, shaking his shoulder as I sat up in bed. "C'mon, Z, wake up," I repeated, shaking him a bit harder, and I felt my heart tear as I saw a tear escape his eye. Something awful was happening to him.

"Zayn, please wake up. Please, you're scaring me," I begged, fully turning to him. "Zayn!" I called in desperation, and he jumped up, looking around with fear and panic before his eyes landed on me.

And he broke down.

I collected him into my arms as heavy sobs errupted from his lips. His body seemed to heave with the weight of his sadness, and I felt him cling to me for some kind of safety. Some sort of security.

"It's okay, Zayn. You're alright," I whispered to him as I pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

"H-he took everything away," He cried, "He said I was his good little boy, but it was all for his sick fucking pleasure." His emotions were raw and heavy, and I could only hold him and let him know I was there for him. "And now everyone knows."

     He sounded tired. Not the kind of tired that would be fixed with sleep. It was the sort of tired that emotionally weighed on someone, driving out all emotions and all care until they were only a shell of who they were-- a ghost stuck on earth. The kind of tired that murdered a soul and stole away the will to wake up every morning.

     "He can't hurt you anymore, Zayn. And I wouldn't let him. Neither would your aunt," I stated. It was truth. "Maybe he has life when he doesn't deserve it, but you have so much more. He didn't steal everything away because there are people who still care about you. Even if you don't care about yourself...." I trailed off, looking at his face to see that his eyes were watery, holding back more tears that threatened to fall.

    The way the tears provided moisture to his eyelashes made them really stand out. I never paid much attention to how long they were, but they were just another beautiful feature of a gorgeous human being. They were like a frame that held the most exquisite artwork inside.

     "Thinking about him makes me remember everything he's ever told me. How I was sinning every single day. How being gay was wrong. And then I think about you... us. And I wonder if this should feel wrong," He confessed, moving away from me to sit with his back against the wall. And I felt cold without his touch. Just like always.

      I sat still, both of us a distance away from each other, and I didn't like it. I didn't like the empty feeling it left me with or the way it seemed to silently torture Zayn as well.

    I turned to him, seeing the way his jaw was clenched, holding back his true feelings as he looked down at his hands. And I made the first move this time.

    I crawled into his lap until I was straddling him, and he looked up at me with a suffering in his eyes. I took his hand in mine before pressing our foreheads gently against each other. And I was looking him right in the eyes.

     "Does this feel wrong?" I asked. I wanted to let him know this was okay. That his dad's words should be forever silenced.

    He looked me in the eyes before closing his own. I felt his hands squeeze mine as he replied. "No. It feels right. So damn right," He confessed.

     I moved his hands, allowing them to grab onto my waist. And I leaned my face in closer, our foreheads still together as our noses also bumped against one another. "Does this feel wrong?" I repeated, closing my eyes and feeling him shake his head. I listened as he swallowed down emotions. And his breathing became erratic as he took the intiative of moving his own hands.

    They skimmed underneath my shirt, warm and trembling hands caressing my skin in the most sensational way. I took a deep breath in, but I didn't suppress the shivers that coursed through my body at his touch. It was like he was lighting a fire inside of me, and I knew the he knew this had to be right. It could only be right.

    I opened my eyes, seeing his already open and looking at my face, seeming to be admiring every single feature he saw. And I didn't feel shy or insecure. I wanted to lay myself bare for him and show him that it was okay to show your pain to someone you care deeply about; someone you trust.

     "I don't think something wrong could feel so right," I announced, my voice holding ounces of longing and desire for him. And I knew that Zayn heard it in my voice as his eyes darkened at the sound.

    I closed my eyes as I finally connected our lips, something I think we were both waiting for. The way our lips seemed to fit like puzzle pieces. And they weren't as cautious and hesitant as they were when our feelings first developed. No, our actions were confident, precise, and poised. And our lips memorized their own dance together.

     "Liam, can I-" He began to ask, but I was already one step ahead. I pulled back, pulling my shirt off of my body before tossing it onto the floor and meeting his lips again. His hands trailed over my chest and stomach, and I deepened the kiss as I felt his finger lightly trail over one of the many scars I had from my father. It was an affectionate touch. Not one of pity, but one of a tender love.

     "You shouldn't feel afraid to touch me. You shouldn't think this is wrong. I don't want you to because this is all I know that feels right," I admitted.

    Very few things seemed to work out in my life, and very few people seemed to stay. With Zayn, it was a whole other level of attraction, and I knew it was written in the stars for us. It had to be.

    "I don't want to break you... not again," He exposed, one hand moving up to caress my cheek as his other arm wrapped around my waist.

    I gave him a sad smile, and I shook my head. "We've been through the breaking, the hurting, the burning. We've been through time apart. We've been through so many changes. But this, us, this is the one thing that stays consistent. This is familiar. This is danger but safety wrapped in one," I said, working out everything in my head.

    "Zayn, we've both broken each other. We've both made our mistakes. But being together this way isn't one of them. You're scared to break me, but I know you'd never cause me to crash and burn. You'd do it for my safety or my own good. And we'd collide back together in the end because we're polar opposites. And I know you're scared of everything right now, but you don't have to be scared of this. I made that mistake once, and it left me an absolute wreck," I stated, "I'm here for you. Even if you feel lonely, you're not. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you alone."

    Something ignited in his eyes, and I watched as a lovely smile filled his features. "That's what you said to me in the restroom. The first time I met you," He reminisced. And it was. I would still stand by that now.

     "You're worth it," I said, hoping he would believe me. "You're worth so much more than you think. Worthy of this," I reminded. I knew this wouldn't be easy for him. He'd have to go to school and face the rumors that were actually true. He'd have to hear people saying things about the one dark part of his life that left a scar on his mind, heart, body, and soul. And it wouldn't die down for a while, but I wanted to be there to help him along. I wanted to be the arms he fell into when he needed reassurance of who he was. A blessing, not a sin.

     His lips pressed to mine again, leaving multiple pecks, the only sound in the room, and probably in the house, was the sound of our lips gently smacking against each others. It was a sound I despised when I heard couples making out in the school's hallways, but in the moment, it was a sound I wanted to play on a loop.

    Zayn rolled us over until he was hovering over me, laying somewhat on his side as I was flat on my back. And I felt the muscles of my stomach begin to contract as his fingers skimmed underneath the hem of my joggers. They traveled to where my skin was sensitive before he stopped, pulling back from our kissing and looking me in the eyes.

    I nodded to the question in his eyes that asked if his actions were okay with me. I trusted him completely with my heart, words, and body-- with my whole being.

    He pulled the joggers off slowly, our lips continuing to move against one anothers before he began to trail them down my body, following his hands that were busy pulling the joggers off of my ankles completely. And I was only in boxers below his shirtless body.

     And I found myself wanting Zayn like never before as my fingers desperately tugged at his pants. His fingers stopped me, however, his hand pushing my own away gently, and I looked him in the eyes, feeling both confused and scared that this might be rejection.

     "Do you not want to?" I asked, my voice so low it was a whisper. Insecurities began to rise as I thought about my bruise marks, my scars, and my burnt skin. It wasn't smooth and pure. It was damaged and ruined.

     "Of course I want to. I want all of you, princess. Your mind, body, and soul. I want to make you feel good and give you everything I have. But not like this. Not this way," He explained, and I understood that.

     The point of this was to help him realize his dad was wrong about everything. This wasn't wrong. And I think he knew that already.

     "How?" I found myself asking, seeing a smile form on his lips as he pressed another kiss to mine.

     "Somewhere we can be alone. Where we can take our time. When we have the proper things we need so I won't hurt you. Something special because you deserve that, princess. That and so much more," He confessed, his eyes holding adoration, and I couldn't help but mimick the small smile on his lips. "And I want you to be mine," He added, and I was confused again.

    "I am yours," I reminded, moving my arms to wrap around his neck. Our foreheads touched again as he shook his head gently.

    "Will you be my boyfriend? Officially. Because you're all I want," He said, and I felt my whole world freeze.

    We never had a label. We were each other's regardless of our title, and I was afraid that adding a title would ruin what we had. Like it would be chains that limited us and made us despise one another somehow. And the word 'no' lumped in my throat.

    But I looked into his eyes, seeing all of the emotions that I felt mirrored right back at me. This scared him, too, but he was putting himself and his heart n the line. It was only fair I did the same. And I knew I believed in us as I nodded, the word 'yes' leaving my lips instead.

     Zayn's smile grew, and he kissed me with all of the love he could muster. It was so much that it made my heart pound against my chest, threatening to break through its barrier. And I knew this was right. This was so right.

     And I took a deep breath before letting one of my arms fall to his shoulder, where I traced it those lovely three letter words that only he had the nerve to say.

    And he shivered, his breath shaky as he breathed out against my lips before we were once again consumed in each other. The kiss was passionate, heartfelt, and full of more love than I ever thought existed. And we were falling together.

    Only this time, I wasn't afraid we would crash.


	46. Maintain

I woke up feeling warm all over, even internally, and I opened my eyes to see that Zayn was already awake. He was laying by my side, staring at the blinds of the window. There was no need to leave it opened anymore. It wasn't dangerous to be seen together anymore-- at least inside of the house.

I laid silently, staring at him as he seemed deep in thought. His eyes seemed distant as I watched the way the sun rays gently shone through the cracks between the blinds. His eyebrows were furrowed as he threw around whatever idea was on his mind. And I grew curious.

"What are you thinking about?" I questioned, my voice thick with sleep. And I felt a bit embarrassed about how groggy and unattractive my morning voice must've sounded, but Zayn only turned to look at me, a soft smile on his lips that mirrored the muted rays of the sun, and an affectionate look in his eyes.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and my eyes closed as a calm feeling washed over me. It was something I've only ever felt around Zayn. I never grew use to it, but I think that's what gave it beauty.

"My mum," He admitted, and I always admired the way his voice took on a lighter tone at the mention of her. She played a big role in his life, and I knew that she was the most influential person to him, besides his aunt. I can't imagine what it'd be like to lose the woman who gave birth to you. But in a way, my mum was slipping away from me as well.

"What about her?" I asked, resting my head on his chest as I traced invisible patterns and shapes against his skin, feeling goosebumps form underneath my touch.

"I'm just wondering what she'd think of me. Of everything that I'd done. Everything I've been through. Where I am now," He spoke aloud, and his thoughts developed further.

"I don't want to admit it, but I think she would have felt disappointed in me. I know she would have been disappointed in me for the way I treated you. And everyone, really. And she would have despised the way I shut out my emotions. She would have hated the cold shell I became. I wasn't her son. I wasn't myself. I was a corpse of who I truly am," He described, and I felt the pain of truth dripping from his lips with each word.

"I feel like she would have been thankful that I told my aunt about my dad. It couldn't be nice knowing, possibly even seeing, what your child has been through. But I also think I've hurt her worse than I ever could because of the way I handled it. With the self-harm and the alcohol. And I don't want to imagine that she could have seen all that, but I have to because I need her here. I still need her, and if I just think that she's gone, I can't even... I don't...." He trailed off, seeming lost for words or maybe lost in his thoughts.

I felt him tense up beside me. His eyes seemed to distance themselves again, so I pressed a kiss to his neck, pulling him back to me. It amazed me that I had that kind of power over him.

"I think she'd be proud of you now," I spoke, looking up at Zayn. He shifted onto his side so he was looking straight at me, and I continued, knowing that he needed this, but I also meant every word I said.

"She'd be proud of you, Zayn. You decided to open up to someone. You're fighting your alcoholic needs better than most people could. Your music is your therapy, and you're so good at it," I pointed out, seeing a smile form on his lips. "Maybe you're still lost in your past, but you're finding your way. Little by little. I think that's all she wanted. For you to be happier and healthier," I said, wondering what my mum wants for me.

"I'm only happier because of you, princess," He confessed, and I knew it wasn't a lie. He never had anyone that he trusted this way, neither have I, and he was in love. He's said it many times, and I knew that must've brough him happiness. He was my happiness as well.

"I'm happier because of you, too, my knight," I said, not being able to stop the giggle that followed the statement. It left me feeling carefree. It was the way I felt around Zayn. And I watched as he smiled at me with an admiring look in his eyes.

His hand lifted to my cheek, and I closed my eyes as he brought our lips together. Kissing Zayn was always exhilarating, and it always made my head spin as if I was drunk on his love, which I possibly was.

"What did I do to deserve someone as beautiful inside and out as you, princess?" He whispered against my lips. I opened my eyes to see him looking at me with so much love that my heart seemed to overflow with care. I never knew it was possible for someone to control you the way Zayn controlled me. But it wasn't at all in a negative way. It was in the natural way my mind and body seemed to respond to him; the way my heart fluttered in excitement or fright when I was close to him.

"You chose to live," I replied. It was as simple as that. After everything he went through, he had so much pain. Internal pain that only faded away with the way he self-harmed. He could have ended everything, but he chose not to. He chose to be strong.

"You gave yourself a second chance, and it may have had a rocky start, but it was all you, Zayn. We deserve each other because we fought this far," I reminded. I had no clue how we ended up here, but I know that it wasn't easy. It tooks years. Years of torment, confusion, and fear.

"I'm always going to fight," Zayn said, and I believed him. He had a lot of strength in him, that was obvious from the very beginning.

We laid in silence after that, and I closed my eyes again. Everything felt peaceful at this moment in time, but it always did in the early morning. Because everything was quiet. Everything was giving way to their first breaks of life. Their first breaths of new air. A new start that many would take for granted.

    But I knew reality would hit soon. The cars on the street would begin to rush in morning traffic as people scattered for coffee before work. The sun would begin to paint the sky shades of purple and pink before it turned fully blue. We would ne forced to leave the warmth of the bed sheets and each other's bodies. And we'd have to sit in a room full of people who only harmed, even when they had no clue the impact their words had.

    I didn't know if Zayn wanted to risk that.

    "We don't have to show it," I voiced lowly, worried that he would agree. "We could just pretend," I added. I didn't know if Zayn wanted the whole school to know that we were official. Heaven knows I wanted it, and it surprised me just how much it would mean to me to act that way with him.

    I looked up at Zayn to see him already looking at me, a smile playing on his lips. "Liam, I want them all to know. I need them to know that you're mine. I want to show that I have the most beautiful boyfriend in the whole entire world. I want them to get jealous over the fact that only I can have you. I want to show how much I love you." He informed.

     The words were flattering, but I shook my head. There were flaws in his statement. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow at my rejection, and I sighed before replying.

    "They wouldn't be jealous. They'd probably just hate me," I admitted. Zayn was their king before this whole mess happened. They basically worshipped the ground he walked on, and I'm surprised they didn't just kiss the very ground he walked on. He was their ruthless, fearless leader.

     "They'd hate me because they're ignorant enough to think that I turned you gay. They'd hate me even more than ever before for doing that. Besides, none of them were ever attracted to me. I was the loser, the loner, and the unattractive one. You were the one who could basically get anyone you wanted," I pointed out.

     "I never wanted anyone else but you," He declared, and I felt my heart fill with so much love. I was insanely in love with this boy beside me, and I wanted to tell him that. I wanted him to know, but I didn't want to say the words like this. Not after everything that happened. Not before I moved on from my own past.

    So, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. I attempted to pour out all of my emotions into the liplock, but there was no way I could express such a massive amount. It was physically impossible because my love for Zayn grew by the second. It grew like the sun rose. Blazing red and lighting up the darkness.

     So I prayed-- prayed-- he understood.  
\------------------------------------------------------

     Hand in hand. That's how we walked into school that morning, and it was both a terrifying and delightful experience. It was more than those cheesy movie scenes. There was no slow-mo, no massive turning point in the story, but it felt impactful to me.

     The moment people began to take notice of us, I shrunk in on myself, inching closer to Zayn's side, and I felt ashamed of myself. Ashamed because I was still bothered by their stares and judgments. Ashamed because I was still the weak one even while Zayn was on the verge of a breakdown. Ashamed because, for a split second, I wanted to rip my hand away from Zayn's and pretend like I didn't know him. But I ended up holding on tighter, catching his attention.

    We stopped walking, moving closer to the lockers as he turned to face me. His hand instantly lifted up to my cheek, and I involuntarily closed my eyes as I gentle touch. Because Zayn was always so gentle. He held me like I was fragile. Fragile but not broken.

     "They don't matter. Ignore them," He said, and I nodded, trying to focus on Zayn, but my eyes would always drift away from his to see our surroundings. People would stare before whispering to their friends, obviously talking about us.

    And there were many things they could have been talking about. They could be doing the usual and talking shit about me-- I wasn't attractive, I was a sad excuse for a human being, that no one should be able to love me. It would hurt, but I'd rather them talk about me than about Zayn.

    They could be talking about that disgusting rumor they made up, laughing about it while they have no clue that their story is true. They had no idea the effect that their words had on others. Mainly because they never had to face the same thing. They were safe being a part of the in-crowd.

    "Liam," Zayn spoke up, causing my eyes to snap back to him, and I saw the obvious worry in his eyes. But he never seemed to worry about himself. "If anyone tells you anything, anything at all, please tell me," He finished, his tone almost begging as his hand squeezed mine and his other caressed my cheek.

     "I can handle it," I said, hoping me voice didn't sound so unsure. I wanted to believe that I could deal with it all, that their words have plagued me for so long that I was numb to them, but they still managed to claw into me. They still sat in the corners of my mind, reminding me of why I don't deserve to be happy, why I use to sit alone in all of my classes, and why I never had a friend. Why nobody wanted me. And it tore at my heart as well.

     "I know you can," Zayn offered, and it didn't sound patronizing. He wasn't speaking down to me. He said it like he fully believed I was strong enough and capable of taking care of myself. And I always seemed to forget how important having someone who believed in me was.

     "I know you can, but I just... I need you safe, princess. I always need you safe," He confessed, a certain type of fear behind the loving look his eyes as he said the words. "You have me, Louis, hopefully Drew...." He trailed off, looking frustrated about the whole Drew thing.

    "We can trust him," I assured, trying to appeade his mind, but he still huffed in disbelief.

    "Are you sure?" He asked, giving me a skeptical look. I knew he was worried, and he had a valid reason to be. Because I chose to trust Drew once-- when I had no one else by my side. I chose to believe he had some good in him, and I actually valued him as a person. I thought he was my friend, but he did a complete 180 on me in less than twenty-four hours.

     But I knew his story now. And I decided it was worth another shot. Some people could change, and looking at where I stood with Zayn now, I knew that was true.

     "Yes. I'm sure," I confirmed, but my words did nothing to deter the doubt he held as he gave out a heavy sigh. He seemed to be turning the idea over and over again in his head. I knew he would never trust Drew, so I spoke up again.

     "Trust me," I said, making him look at me with a new sort of resolve. "If you can't trust Drew, at least trust me. I'll be fine," I insisted.

    He held eye contact with me for a moment, searching for honesty in my eyes, and I assumed he found what he was looking for when he nodded reluctantly.

    "Okay," He simply said, and I was happy that he trusted me, but I could tell something was still bothering him.

    "Are you going to be okay?" I questioned, knowing that people were still afraid of Zayn. I doubt anyone would say something to his face, but I knew he'd be paranoid that every single time someone was gossiping and whispering to each other that they were talking about him. Him and his dad.

    He looked at me with a sort of sad adoration and nodded slightly. "Yeah. I'll be fine," He said, but his voice sounded raw and came out in a whisper. He wasn't confident in his answer. I think he knew how much his past would impact him. He spent so long burying it away, but now it was being dug up by people he never even spoke to before. I knew he was scared. Even Zayn Malik could be afraid.

     "Zayn..." I trailed off, making him look at me, and I didn't like the pain in his eyes. Maybe we were making a new start together, but our pasts were still nipping at our heels. "None of them know you or what you've been through," I pointed out.

     "I don't care," He voiced, trying to appear completely unfazed about it all, and it made my heart ache. He truly didn't see how strong he was. He didn't seem to care about his worth. He didn't want to care about what others thought, but he did. I could tell.

     "You should talk to Louis about it. I know he's worried about you" I sighed out, knowing that Louis wasn't stupid. He'd ask, and I felt like Zayn should tell him. They've been best friends for years, and I knew Louis would only comfort him. He'd be a great help in assisting Zayn with moving on from what happened. He deserved to know, but I knew the decision to tell him wasn't mine.

    "I'll think about it," He whispered, but I felt like his answer was already leaning toward a 'no'.

     "Zayn-" I tried, but he shook his head, wrapping his arms around my waist instead and pulling me closer. And I forgot about the fact that we were in the middle of a school hallway. But the butterflies inside of me seemed to get a thrill out of the public affection.

     "It's hard to talk about it," He said, resting his forehead on mine, and I found it endearing. This was something only we shared; an action that meant so much between the two of us. And Zayn wasn't fearing the thought of everyone seeing his vulnerability. He was removing the mask of the character he played for so long and letting his true self shine.

     "It's difficult to say the words. It makes me feel unsafe," He continued, and I remembered the way he sobbed and shook as he revealed his past to me. And I felt a warmth run through me as I registered the fact that Zayn must've felt safe with me. Safe enough to tell me all that he did.

     "Louis' my best friend, but I... I need a little time," He finished. "I'll tell him eventually."

    That was all I asked for. I knew it would be a struggle, but I felt like telling the people he was closest to would help him overcome it all in a way. There would be no barrier or thick layer of the past.

     I nodded, feeling our noses bump together, and I heard Zayn inhale sharply at the slight contact-- our lips so close to touching-- and I found a moment of bravery as I pressed my lips to his.

    The kiss was gentle, tender, and soft. Like laying down on cotton. As weightless and light as a feather.

    We heard the warning bell ring, meaning that we had to get to class, and we slowly came apart. I looked up at Zayn, seeing him looking right back at me, and I shivered under his intense gaze.

    My fingers found his hand, and I traced the three words that desperately wanted to leave my lips onto the back of his hand. It was the only way I could say them at the moment.

    Zayn's closed his eyes at the action, just feeling the way my finger delicately moved over his hand. And I knew he knew what the words were. I could tell by the way a hint of a smile played on his lips, and I saw him reopen his eyes as I finished.

     His eyes held three main emotions, and they all seemed to attack my heart.

    First, there was love. So much love that it could cause the Garden of Eden to rebloom. So much love that it would fill the oceans up, replacing all of the water with thick, red emotions. So much love that I knew this was right.

     Second, there was hope. The kind of hope that inspired the sun to continuously chase the moon, waiting for the day they would meet. The kind of hope that have mankind the drive to fight for equality, waiting for peace around the bend.

    Finally, there was pain. Pain in the form of an ache, a longing to hear the words spoken, and my heart clenched as I couldn't seem to voice them. Pain that came with the intense desire to forever be with the one you love, knowing that the future was unknown. Pain in the minuscule amount of water that formed in his eyes, immediately blinked away.

    "I love you," He declared quietly, keeping the moment between us. He kissed the back of my hand before holding it in his. "Let's get to class," He said, and I was snapped back into the reality of things.

    We continued walking through the halls, lots of eyes on us as we walked by, and I leaned closer to Zayn again. I turned to look at him to block out all of the stares, but I didn't like what I saw instead.

    Because even though I knew Zayn loved me, the look in his eyes held nothing at all. A dull, hollow house within them.

    I knew Zayn tended to shut down all emotions when it got to be too much, and I expected it to happen today as the rumor spread some more, but I didn't expect it so suddenly.

    And I thought about the fire that burned away all of Zayn's clothes in my bathtub. It seemed to blaze everything to bits, but the look in Zayn's eyes held no fire, no passion, no fight. It was that same look he took on when he spoke of his dad-- the things that reminded him of the wrongs he thought he committed.

    Zayn was a fire that was snubbed out by cruel hands, and I desired nothing more than to be the match that would set him alight again.


	47. Whirlwind

I walked into the lunch room with Drew by my side. He's been a surprisingly good friend since his apology, and I was just glad we could move on from the whole hatred thing. I guess I never was good at hating people.

We grabbed our trays before standing in line with all of the other kids. And I wasn't hungry. I knew I should eat, my mind was telling me to uphold my part of the deal and that it was for my own health, but I couldn't even fathom the idea of taking a bite of the food. But I would try. I would always try.

"So, what are your plans for the weekend?" Drew asked as he grabbed some nachos and placed them on his plate. Some of the cheese seemed to droop over the side of the container, and it made my stomach turn. I did my best to ignore it as I grabbed some fruit salad instead. Something my stomach could handle.

"I don't know. I never really plan my weekends. Things just sort of happen or I stay home all day," I informed. Although I did know one thing this weekend would consist of. I had to go to my dad's hearing. I had to go up in front of law officials and speak of all of the horrors I use to only keep in my mind.

"You've never made weekend plans?" He asked, sounding completely unconvinced, but there wasn't much I could have planned when I never really had anywhere to go or anyone to hang out with. "You've got to be shitting me, Liam! You need to go out more often," He said, and I only shrugged.

"I never had many options," I said. It was only true. The last social event I attended was my mum's office party, and I was the youngest person there. I never had parties because I never had money. I never hung out with anyone because I never had friends. Harry was probably the first friend to invite me to his house. Zayn didn't count. That was something different. That was like a home; not just a visit.

"Well, let's fix that," He grinned as he grabbed a pudding cup and placed it on his plate. I never understood how people could stomach any type of dessert after the main course. "We should have a get together this weekend. You, me, and anyone you want to invite. It'll be small, but it'll also be a blast," He stated.

"I can't. I have something to do this weekend," I said, causing him to stop walking. We stepped out of the lunch line as we finished getting the food we wanted, and Drew turned to me with a confused look on his face.

"I thought you said you didn't have any plans?" He said, in an almost accusing tone.

"I wouldn't call a court hearing an actual plan for the weekend. It just happened that way," I sighed, moving to walk past him over to where Louis was sitting and smiling down at his phone. I could only assume who he was texting.

"Hey, Liam," Drew called, rushing to catch up to me, and I stopped walking, turning to look at him. "I'm sorry about everything that's going on. Can't imagine how that's like," He apologized, and I recognized that familiar tone of guilt that seemed to linger in everyone's voice. It was like they were all guilty, yet most of them ignored that tug of human emotion. They were like robots to society.

"You don't have to be sorry. The only person who needs to be sorry is my dad," I said, wanting to end this conversation, but I guess Drew didn't realize that as he spoke up again.

"Do you want him to go to jail?" He asked, and I was immediately taken back by the question. He saw my expression, and he continued on in a hurry. "I mean, most people would want someone who's caused them so much pain, well, they'd want him dead," He explained.

And I was speechless. My thoughts were automatically cluttered with each and every single memory of the far wall of the basement. Each hit I took my that man's fists. Each yell for help that went unheard. Each drop of blood that stained the floor. And I knew I should be angry. I should be absolutely furious. And perhaps I should want him dead... but I couldn't bring myself to wish it.

I thought about Zayn's words about his father. How he despised the fact that he was still breathing. His anger and his past fueled his fire. Where I wanted confinement and an end, Zayn wanted death and vengeance.

I looked up at Drew, feeling so weak, but my words came out harsh and confident. "I want him in prison. I want him to sit in solitude for the rest of his life, losing his mind in the silence of the night. I want him to live behind bars the way I lived behind my bedroom door for safety. I want him in chains the way he restrained my from breaking free. I want him to spend years asking himself why he was suffering, and maybe then, just maybe, he'll know what it feels like to walk around with a hole of agony within you."

I think Drew knew then that he crossed a line with that question. I think he realized that he should change the subject. Maybe it was the broken tone in my voice, or maybe it was the rage. Maybe it was the anger in my eyes, or maybe it was the way I felt tears slowly forming.

I turned around, hanging my head low and making my way toward Louis again. I took about three steps before someone suddenly stepped in front of me. Kyle.

I looked up at him, and I watched as a sinister smirk took form on his lips. "Why are you crying, Payne? Finally realized how disgusting you are? Or did your little boyfriend leave you becausd he realized it instead?" He asked.

I shook my head, not bothering to give him a reply. I tried to move to walk around him, but he caught me by my shoulder and brought me back. "Hey, no need to be rude. Just trying to have a conversation," He said, feigning innocence.

"I don't want to talk to you," I said. It was the only words I could offer. I wanted nothing more than for him to just drop whatever his problem with me was and walk away.

"Guess that's too bad that things don't always go your way. Isn't it?" He asked, and I moved to walk around him again, being pulled back once again-- harshly this time.

The food on my tray scattered all over, falling out of the container and landing on the ground, on me, and on the sides of the tray. I saw the other guys coming, calling Kyle's name and smiling as they saw the situation. Five against one. Or five against three.

I saw Louis quickly jump up as soon as he looked up from his phone, and Drew rushed to my side immediately. I've never had support like this before.

"You have five fucking seconds to walk away before I beat the shit out of you," Louis growled, pushing Kyle back by his chest, causing him to stumble a bit.

"Funny, you use to be just like us. What changed, Tomlinson?" Kyle asked, almost laughing in Louis' face, and I watched as Louis' hands turned into fists.

"I was never like you. I tolerated you at most. I was never one of you because I'm not a homophobic prick. I might be an asshole, but I'm not an ignorant idiot," He defended.

"You use to be like us, whether you want to believe that or not," Kyle pushed back, spreading his hands to gesture to the rest of his friends who were all nodding in agreement. Robots. They were all programmed terribly.

"I did pretend to be like you," Louis admitted, his voice displaying obvious shame. "I pretended because it was the only way to fit in, but I never shared your hate," He said.

"Of course. How could you when you were too busy fucking some guy on the side?" Kyle replied, smiling as he knew he hit a nerve. Louis' eyes darkened at the very mention of his love life, and I was hoping they would drop it there.

"Don't talk about him," Louis hissed, teeth clenched to obtain his anger.

"Why not? Why can't we talk about this guy who seemed to change your views over night?" He said, turning to the guys next to him and continuing to speak as if we weren't still here. "I'm telling you, either Tomlinson went insane or that guy was a good fuck," He laughed. And that set it off.

Immediately Louis' fist went flying, making sudden contact with Kyle's jaw and causing his head to turn sharply. It was a good hit, but it led to chaos.

"Fucking fag," Kyle sneered in disgust before he retaliated, and both of them begin to swing. Fists hit faces, stomachs, and chests. Cusses and grunts of pain were heard. And I began to panic.

I threw my tray of food on the floor before attempting to help Louis, but I was met with two of Kyle's friends. "Where do you think you're going? It's a fair fight. Louis can handle himself, right?" One of them asked, a mocking smile on his face.

"Besides, what the hell do you plan on doing?" The other guy asked, pushing me back, and Drew was suddenly by my side, catching me from stumbling.

"Back the fuck off, man," He said, and I watched as they laughed. Drew turned to me, checking to see if I was okay, and I gasped as he was pulled back by one of the guys, immediately punched by the other. And then I felt my hands being held behind my back, leaving me defenseless.

It was utter chaos all around. I felt punches getting thrown to my stomach and face, and I tasted the blood that ran from my nose onto my mouth. I looked around in panic, seeing so many different things unfolding.

Louis and Kyle were on the floor, an almost even match as they continuously threw punches, slurs being growled out at Louis. Drew was attempting to fight off both guys that surrounded him, but I could tell his struggles were useless. Kids were crowding around the fight, yelling and jeering. Lunch ladies took notice, and I saw one rush out of the cafeteria, and I hoped she was calling someone.

I felt another hit to the side of my head, and my vision blurred. Black spots formed every now and then, and a dizzy feeling overtook me. It was like everything was spinning all of a sudden, and I felt sick to my stomach.

I saw a blurry fist reel back, setting up for another shot, but it never came. Instead, I heard the other guys grunt in pain instead.

I was let go of, and I fell weakly to the floor. I looked up, allowing my vision to clear, and I felt tears in my eyes as I saw Zayn throwing punches with full rage. His eyes were dark, and his jaw was clenched. Pure anger emitted from him.

And he moved on to help Drew as the two guys were busy tending to their newfound wounds. He pulled the guys off of him, and I sat up, a shaky breath leaving my lips as I let out a sob. Then, I looked over to where Louis was.

He was on the ground; Kyle was over him and throwing punch after punch at his face. He seemed to still be fighting back, but I could tell he was tired. I watched as Zayn quickly rushed over to them, pulling Kyle off of Louis and I heard yells as he pushed him past the crowd of onlookers and slammed his back into the wall.

"Don't you ever hurt my friends again. Don't you ever touch my boyfriend! I'll break your fucking fingers one by one and watch as you beg for mercy. Just try me you filthy piece of shit!" He snarled, and then he shoved him against the wall again, allowing him to fall to the ground. He turned, and I watched as Drew went to help Louis up, Zayn rushing to my side.

"Let me see," He said, voice much softer as soon as he was crouching right in front of me. I allowed him to view my injuries, and I wiped off blood from my nose. It wasn't broken, but it hurt like hell.

"I'm okay," I goaned out, feeling groggy. It was nothing I couldn't handle.

    "I should fucking kill them," Zayn said, helping to wipe more blood away. I recognized the serious tone in his voice, and I knew he wanted to get even, but there was no need to. It was over, and I wanted to leave it that way.

    "Zayn, we're okay. We're all okay," I said, pulling him back down beside me as he was about to get up and finish what Kyle started. It wouldn't have been pretty to witness. "Just stay with me, please," I asked calmly, trying to keep my voice level to assure him that everything was fine.

     He looked me in the eyes, seeming to weigh out whether he should get revenge or listen to what I was saying. "Okay," He finally said, giving in to my plea. He wiped away some of my tears and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm here."

     "What is going on here!?" A voice sounded, and we all turned to see our music teacher, Mrs. Michaelson, rushing into the cafeteria. Students immediately dispersed from the scene, and Kyle immediately shot up.

     "Malik just decided to go insane and started trying to fight us. We had to defend ourselves from all of them," He lied, and Mrs. Michaelson turned to look at the four of us.

     She looked at Drew, seeing his hurt face and the red marks of hands on him. Then her eyes drifted to Louis, who was leaning against Drew's shoulder for support. He was obviously hurt. He hissed in pain as he tried to stand alone on his two feet. And lastly, her eyes met mine as she stared down at where Zayn and I were crouching. I was clutching my bleeding nose, and a few tears still managed to stain my cheeks. Zayn was completely unscathed.

    She gave me a small smile before she turned back to where Kyle and his minions were standing defensively. "If Zayn was the one to start the fight, Mr. Anderson, then why is he the only one who remained unharmed?" She interrogated, and I could see the panic in Kyle's eyes as his mind searched for an explanation.

     "Because he- I mean I- he just- Mrs, I can explain!" He stuttered, tripping over his words in a way I've never seen before. He failed to keep a calm and collected composure under pressure. It was a major difference between him and Zayn.

      "Then please do," She insisted, clasping her hands in front of her as she awaited his response, but he only opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. He was at a loss for words, and we all knew it.

     "I think we need to have a chat with Principal Morrison," Mrs. Michaelson said, motioning for Kyle to follow him. He scoffed in disbelief and pointed at us.

    "What about them? They just get to walk away from this?" He asked, demanding some sort of sentence for us as well.

    Mrs. Michaelson looked at us and shook her head. "No. They get to go and see the nurse to clean themselves up. Now, if you'll follow me," She said, walking away from where we stood. Kyle gave us a frustrated look before walking after her.

     The other group of guys looked completely lost after what just happened, and they scattered away like flies getting shooed. I looked back at Zayn, and I saw the obvious urge he had to chase afted them. I was only thankful that he didn't.

     "Do you need to go to the nurse? I can take you," Zayn said, holding my hand as he helped me stand up.

    "I'm fine. Just need to wash off this blood," I said, looking over to where Louis was. It seemed like he was in more pain than I was. And I instantly felg guilty.

    "You guys should take Louis, though," I told Drew and Zayn. "Louis, I'm sorry about this. I never meant for you to-"

    "Liam, I'm fine," He assured, a smile spreading onto his features, but it ended in a grimace of pain. "I'll be okay. I know you didn't ask for my help, but I'm not just going to sit there and watch that happen. I'm okay," He said, but I was still uncertain.

     "Liam, stop looking so guilty. Really, I'm okay," He said, moving his arm away from Drew's shoulders and finally standing on his own. "Now, let's go clean ourselves up. I figured we could spend lunch somewhere else," He said, patting my shoulder before limping away to the nearest restroom.

    I sighed as I saw him going, and I saw Drew ready to follow in case he couldn't make it. Before he could rush behind him, though, Zayn caught his arm and looked back at me for a second before turning back to Drew.

     "Thank you for helping him. Thank you for being here when I wasn't," He told him, and Drew was obviously shocked by the gratitude Zayn was displaying.

    "You're welcome. No problem," He rushed out, and Zayn let him go. He stood there, still shaken up by the fact that Zayn was actually nice to him, then he shook his head before rushing after Louis, needing to clean himself up as well.

     Zayn turned back to me, and I saw a deep sadness in his eyes. He lifted my chin in his hand and looked me in the eyes. "I love you, princess. Sorry I wasn't here sooner," He apologized, pressing a kiss to my cheekbone, and I felt myself relax under his soft touch.

    "You're here now," I said. That was all that mattered. Zayn would always be here for me, and I would always be there for him.

     "But I was too late," he mumbled, breaking our contact before turning, my hand in his as he led us out of the cafeteria, and I felt the heavy silence between us. And I knew it then. 

    Zayn was blaming himself for the damage that was done.  
\------------------------------------------------------

     "Oh my goodness! Are you okay, Lou?" Harry worried, rushing up to Louis as soon as we walked into the café doors. His hands touched every inch of Louis' face, and I could tell his heart was probably beating at a thousand beats per minute. It's how I would feel if Zayn was ever hurt that way.

     "I'm fine, baby. I'm okay. Just a few bruises and scrapes," Louis assured, taking Harry's hands in his and kissing the knuckles on both hands. It was warm and refreshing to see their simple love and how it paralleled from mine and Zayn's.

    Where they had it sweet and simple, Zayn and I had it passionate and complex. We both cowered away for so long while they immediately hit it off. But I would never prefer anything else than what I had-- pain and all.

      "Are you okay, Liam?" I heard another voice ask, and I turned to see Niall standing a few steps away from me. He looked almost as worried as Harry was, but he was restraining himself, and I knew it was because of Zayn standing right next to me.

     "I'm alright. I think Louis took the worst of it," I confessed, sending Harry an apologetic glance.

    "I'm alright, really. I wasn't the only one hurt, lads," Louis said, and even if that was true, I still felt terrible.

     "Oh, by the way, this is Drew. Drew, that's Niall and Harry," I introduced them. Drew shook both of their hands, and Niall made the observation.

    "I'm guessing you got into the fight as well?" He questioned, and Drew nodded, laughing a bit.

    "Not sure if you can call it a fight if it's two against one," He commented. I watched as they all began to socialize. We made our way to the table Harry and Niall were sitting at, and we all sat down.

    "Let's see what looks good," Louis said as he grabbed one of the small menus and began looking it over with Harry. And I noticed another thing that parallaled them from me and Zayn.

    Right now, they had so much togetherness while Zayn and I were acting distant. Or that's the way it felt as Zayn was staring off into space, seeming like something was bothering him. Perhaps it was the whole fighting scenario.

     "What are you thinking about?" I decided to ask, smiling a bit at the fact that even in his distance, our fingers were still intertwined.

    "Nothing," He responded in a whisper, his voice barely traveling at all. It felt like we were back to the way we started, where Zayn was hiding every single thought inside of his head. He was harbouring it all, and I was begging him to release it.

    "Are you sure?" I asked, seeing him finally turn his attention to me. He gave me a smile and nodded, but I didn't miss the emptiness in his eyes. His smile wasn't reaching them. They were vacant of honesty.

     "Zayn... has anyone told you anything today?" I questioned. I knew that he said he could handle their words, and I didn't doubt that, but handling them didn't mean they weren't hurtful.

    "I don't want to talk about it right now, Liam. What do you want to eat?" He asked instead, doing his best to change the subject and keep the mood light, but it bothered me. I could tell he wasn't happy. Whatever happened occurred before the fight. It must've added onto his anger.

    "I'm not hungry," I answered honestly, and I saw the disappointment on Zayn's face. Only it wasn't toward me. He wasn't disappointed in me, but it was almost as if he was disappointed in himself.

    And I watched as he scoffed and gave a smirk, the disappointment and pain festering behind his eyes. All in himself. It was obvious by the way he closed himself off from the very moment we all joined together. And I didn't want him to feel that way.

    He got up from the table, my hand feeling cold as soon as he let go of it, and I called his name as he started walking away. He walked out of the door, and I got up from the table, looking back at the four pairs of confused eyes. I was just as lost.

    "I'm sorry," I said. I quickly rushed toward the door and ran after Zayn, seeing him already walking down the sidewalk.

    "Zayn!" I called as I ran up beside him. I grabbed his arm and attempted to turn him around, but he shrugged me off. "Zayn, what's going on? Please talk to me," I begged, feeling scared all of a sudden.

    I tugged on his sleeve again, and he turned to me, looking down at the ground, but I still saw the tears that streamed down his cheek. Each drop was like a knife cutting into my heart, and I knew something had happened. Something more was wrong.

     "I'm here," I said, hugging him against my body and feeling scared and lost in my confusion. I didn't know how this day took such a disastrous turn.

    "Can we go home?" He asked, his voice broken as he looked into my eyes. And my heart stuttered at the word home. Our home. And I nodded.

    "Yes. We can," I said. Our hands were intertwined once more, and we walked quietly down the sidewalk. I needed to know what was affecting him and making him react this way. I needed him to be okay.

    And maybe I was bruised up on the outside, but it seemed Zayn was even more black and blue on the inside.


	48. Love

Zayn and I were both on his bed, but there was a small distance between us. I didn't know if he needed space or if he needed physical comfort. I didn't even know what was on his mind.

He wasn't sleeping, but he was laying down and staring out the window. I was afraid to say anything because I didn't want to upset him even more. He seemed like he was beating himself up though, and I didn't like to see him doing that. He didn't even do anything wrong.

"You're thinking too much, princess," Zayn muttered out, finally turning to look at me. "I don't like seeing you frown, Liam."

"I don't like when you shut me out. Not after everything we've been through," I confessed. I wasn't keen on the lack of communication because I wasn't keen on being so far from Zayn. The thought made me panic, and I suddenly began to worry that things were finally starting to crumble. After all, good things never last in life. Not that I've seen anyway.

I felt Zayn's eyes on me as I looked down at the sheets on his bed. The color calmed me a bit but not enough. I needed Zayn to be alright before I could be, just as he needed the same from me. It was always so new to me to know that your emotions could have such an effect on someone else.

I looked back up at him, and he opened his arms, signaling for me to lay with him. And I accepted the offer, having such a strong need to feel close to him again-- physically or emotionally.

He sighed as if a weight was taken off of his shoulders as I settled in between his arms, my head laying against his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I found myself closing my eyes, just wanting to preserve this moment between us for as long as possible.

"I guess I have been doing that," He admitted, kissing the top of my head soothingly, and I sighed a peaceful sigh, enjoying the bond we had. There were no words needed to tell how we felt about each other, but there had to be words in order for me to find out what was wrong with Zayn; why he was acting unusual.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking up at Zayn. "Something happened before that fight. What happened?"

"Everyone knows, Liam," He breathed out, and I knew about the rumor. I knew about it, but I couldn't imagine the things people spread around with it.

"I know, but you can't let them get to you about it. It happened, Zayn, and none of them even know for sure whether or not it's tr-"

"No, everyone knows!" He said, his voice wavering with emotions. He sat up, turning away from me, and I lifted myself up as well, missing his touch. And I finally sensed that this was more than the rumor. Everyone knew.

"You mean...." I trailed off, not wanting to say the words. I didn't want to believe that people would dig so deep just to target someone, but I couldn't deny that they were all capable of it. It was hard to give them all the benefit of the doubt when you've experienced their cruelty first-hand.

"They found his record," Zayn said, and I moved to sit beside him. I saw that his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. It was obvious that he was holding back tears. So many tears that it could make a desert flower. "They went online, and they pulled up police records. They showed me his mugshots, and..." He stopped speaking, and I watched as he swallowed back his emotions, attempting to keep himself together. "It's been so long since I've seen his face," He whispered in a voice that was barely audible. It was as if all of his oxygen was stolen away; exposed on top of a mountain in cold, thin air.

I reached for his hand, and it hurt me when he flinched away in fright; as if I was going to cause him pain. And I knew he probably had so many memories of touches. Ones that made him cry, and I knew he was remembering each and every one of them. And now he had a face to match, to go back to. All because a group of kids took it too far.

He ripped his hand away, and I watched as he lifted it to his eyes, wiping away tears that began to flow. I could sense all of his shame. There was so much shame and self-hate, and I realized that this was everything Zayn held in each and every day. Even when I watched him break down the first time, he was still holding so much back.

"I had to see his fucking face after all these years! I stared into his eyes, and there was no guilt. No regret. Not even an ounce. But there was anger and a bit of a smile in his eyes. That's it!" He cried, his whole body trembling as the image was stamped into his mind. "And they laughed...." He trailed off, and I recognized the familiar tone he took whenever he was trying to numb everything away. He always did his best to suppress his emotions, but I couldn't let him just harbor all of this suffering for the rest of his life.

I grabbed onto his shaky hand, feeling how cold they were, and it was something new to me. He was always so warm, but now it was like his fright was getting to him. His memories held the upper hand, and it was up to me to bring him back on top.

"Keep talking, Zayn," I said, kissing his knuckles to display innocent affection. I knew he was sensitive to touching whenever he was in this state, so I didn't want to push too far, but I wanted him to know that nobody would ever hurt him the way his father did. Never again.

"I- I don't w-want to talk about this," He insisted, struggling to hold back the mass amount of tears that wanted to fall down his cheeks. He needed to know that it was okay to let them out. I wouldn't judge him, and I wouldn't mind being the shoulder he needed to cry on.

"I know," I whispered, squeezing his hand in mine, and I saw his eyes lock onto where our fingers were intertwined in that strong grip. It was like we were both on the edge of a cliff, teetering back and forth between life and death, and the only link we had to keep us stable was each other. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you can't keep it all inside forever, Zayn. Keeping it in and letting it fester up inside is allowing him to win. You told me that in different words," I reminded, but I still got no reaction from him.

I moved off of the bed, never letting go of his hand, and I walked in front of him, kneeling down until I could see his face. "You're allowing him to win. To continuously cause you pain," His eyes finally met mine, and I noticed all of his emotions before he squeezed his eyes shut. "Don't let him win, Zayn," I begged. 

And it brought me back to that first day I spoke to him. We were separated by a door. A door that easily could have been opened, but neither of us were willing to force it open. And now, that same barrier was there, but this time I was willing to break down the door.

"They laughed about the rumor being true, and they spread it around, and there was nothing I could do about it because I chose not to lose my temper then and there. But that didn't mean it hurt any less," He explained, and I knew he was slowly breaking apart in front of my eyes.

"They actually laughed!" He scoffed, his voice a low tone. "They laughed and teased about it. About my dad sexually abusing me. But they have no idea what it's like. They have no idea how many times I wish I could go back in time and stop it from happening, or how many times I wish I could close my eyes and open them for it all to have been a dream, or how many times I tried to find ways to take away the pain inside, but I ended up killing myself instead," He cried, taking deep breaths between sobs.

"And they laughed!" He repeated like he couldn't believe people could be so vile, and I understood that. It was hard to believe that anyone could be so cold-hearted, especially about an issue so serious.

"They laughed at the fact that ny father raped me!" He raised his voice, and it sounded hoarse and painful with all of the pent up emotion breaking loose. His voice sounded like nails scraping up wood, and every single word bruised my heart.

I felt myself tearing up, and I knew it was okay to cry with Zayn, but I wanted so desperately to be strong for him. I wanted to be able to hold him up and make the tears stop falling down.

"He raped me," He cried out, squeezing on my hand until it hurt, but I wouldn't dare pull away. "He used me. He made me believe I was the one doing something wrong for so long, and I just- just wanted to forget him. I wanted his face to stop haunting my nightmares. I wanted to forget about the way he touched me every time I touch you. I wanted to pretend none of it happened... but it did happen... and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad," He whimpered out, his other hand clutching at his heart as if it was shriveling up with every thought he confessed, and mine felt the same way.

"I was late to lunch because I..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath as his voice fell, and I noticed the way he was beginning to close in on himself. "I thought about old habits," He confessed, and I understood what he was referring to. His self-harm.

"You didn't.... Did you?" I questioned, hoping that he didn't, and I've never felt worse fear than what I felt for Zayn in that moment.

He sniffled a bit as more tears fell, and I mentally prepared myself for the worse, but I didn't have to.

"No," He breathed out in one shaky breath, and I knew he must have so much on his chest right now. "I wanted to. I wanted to forget this pain of seeing his face again. I wanted to forget those nights when I would cry myself to sleep after he left my room, saying that he was proud of me and that I was a good boy for keeping our secret. I craved the pain, Liam. I craved any form of it except for this emotion toll that is tearing up my heart! I still crave it. I want it so badly, but I don't want to go back to that. I- I can't go back to that."

"I know," I comforted, moving back to sit beside him. Our shoulders were touching, but I made no further move to hold him. I didn't know if he was ready for that yet. He wouldn't even look at me. He just stared at the ground as he continued. I wondered how much more there was.

"I feel so fucking disgusting and worthless every fucking day. I think about alcohol every single second. I think about how I truly am helpless. And I just want to be okay!" He almost begged. I knew the feeling. There were signs of Zayn's self-deprecation, but I always shrugged it off. I never should have done that.

"I want to forget. I want to get better," He admitted, speaking in a severely serious tone. "I want to be able to give you the love you deserve without second-guessing myself about it. But, hell, I can't even protect you. How am I supposed to be enough if I can't even do that?" He chuckled humorlessly, and I turned my whole body to face him.

"Zayn, what happened at lunch was not your fault," I inmediately stated. None of us expected it to happen, so it was wrong for him to take the blame. If it was anybody's fault it was Kyle's for being an idiot.

"I should have been there," He insisted, shaking his head in disappointment at himself. "I should have been by your side to make sure nothing happened, but I wasn't because I'm a fucking weakling."

"Zayn," I said his name sharply, hating the way he was talking about himself. "You are anything but weak!" I began, lifting his chin up and making him look at me. His eyes tried searching anywhere but in mine, but I continued speaking anyway.

"What happened to you was beyond your control. You were so young, and you were afraid. And now it's coming back to haunt you, and I couldn't ever imagine going through that kind of pain. Those kids are all shitheads for what they're doing, and you're so much stronger than all of them put together. You're worth more than the whole lot of them," I said, trying to make him understand just how valuable, how brave, and how amazing he was.

"And you do make me feel loved. You make me feel so much love every single day, and I never know what to do with myself because of it. You're not fucked up, you're just lost and hurt. You protect us all. Louis, Drew, me. And it was you who told your aunt about my father. You were the brave one then. You did protect me," I reminded, pressing my forehead gently to his.

"I just feel like I can't give you everything until I get over this. I feel like I can never be truly happy until I move on from it," He admitted in a scared tone, but it was perfectly natural to feel the way he felt.

"You give me everything already. You came out for me, you've saved me from abuse, you get into fights to protect me, you make me feel so loved every single time you're around me, you asked me to be your boyfriend, and you've never given up on me even when I hurt you. You gave me everything, now you need to give some to yourself," I said, "and I need to give as well."

"You shouldn't have to," He said, and I knew he found it hard to believe any of my words, but I wasn't going to let any of this go. I was going to push in order to help him escape the prison of his past.

"We're in this together, yeah? A relationship is give and take, not just receiving on one end. And I want to take care of you just like you take care of me. I need to," I confessed.

"I don't know how to forget it," He whispered in fear, and I nodded, closing my eyes as I sighed out.

"I don't think you can," I admitted. There was no point in sugar coating something he already knew. "You can only overcome it."

We sat in silence, our foreheads pressed against one another, and I listened to every breath Zayn took, saw every tear that spilled down his face, and I felt the way his hand squeezed mine tightly before he spoke again.

"I think I'm worthless," He admitted, and I knew it was difficult for him. It was difficult for me to admit to a mirror, so I could only imagine how much it hurt to admit it to me.

"I think I'm worthless, broken, useless, stupid, used, tainted, scarred, a waste of breath and love. I think I'm fucked up in every way possible," He cried quietly; only I could hear his sobs.

"But you..." He trailed off, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin as his lips gently brushed against mine. It was a rush of electricity, and it felt better than anything ever has before. "You make me want to feel alive. You make me feel like maybe I'm not so broken after all," He confessed, and I was definitely crying along with him now.

His words were so honest, vulnerable, and raw. His hand rested on the side of my neck, keeping me close to him, and I could almost feel all of his inner emotions radiating toward me. And we were both crying, hanging onto each other for support. And I felt so close to Zayn that it was almost suffocating. Almost.

"I love you, Liam. I love you so much," He whispered truthfully, lips pecking mine gently, so softly that I squeezed his hand, making sure he was still there. And I could hear all of the agony in his words.

I knew I needed to say it. Even if my throat felt like it was tightening up in fright and my hands were beginning to sweat from anxiety, even if my heart was beating like it was going to fall out of my chest and my head felt like it was spinning, even if I was afraid to lose this all after giving it all away, I knew I needed to say it. And Zayn needed to hear it.

I let out a shaky breath and pressed another kiss to his lips, working up the courage to reply. "You're not worthless, Zayn," I began, feeling nervous for my confession. "You mean so much to me. And... I can't lose you. I don't want to imagine that ever happening because I..." I paused, feeling my hand shake in his, and he held on tighter.

I felt my heart beat quickly, and I felt my chest tighten with emotion. I let out a shaky breath as more tears fell from my eyes. "I love you, too," I finally confessed.

I saw his eyes close tightly, his face leaning closer to mine so our noses were brushing along each other, and I heard his laughter ring out-- as if he couldn't believe it. And a smile filled his features, making him look completely beautiful. Tearful eyes and a stunning smile.

He kissed me again, and I felt him smile into the kiss, making my heart flutter and a small smile form on my lips as well. He broke apart, but left our lips brushing against each other.

"Say it again," He requested, and I knew how much it meant for him. He nuzzled his nose against my neck, and I laughed at the ticklish feeling. And everything felt like it was slowly getting better.

He gently bit on the skin of my neck, and I let out a gasp at the feeling. He looked up at me again, resting his forehead against mine once more, and I felt him wipe away some of my tears while his still stained his cheeks.

I looked him in the eyes, seeing a newfound hope inside of them. There was still pain, and there probably always would be, but he had hope, and I knew we would both get through this. All of our trials.

"I love you," I repeated, seeing Zayn's smile grow even more, and then I got as serious as I could. We were eye to eye, and I stopped smiling, taking it all very seriously, and Zayn did the same. And I found myself lost in his eyes, hypnotized by whatever feeling was possessing us both.

"I love you, Zayn Malik," I declared in a whisper, and he surged forward, kissing my with so much passion... so much love.

And I felt the distance between us fade away completely.  
\------------------------------------------------------

I laid beside Zayn, just tracing random shapes against his bare chest, and I felt him shiver in his sleep. I pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and I listened to his breathing. It was slow and sweet, and to know that he was still breathing meant the world to me.

I lifted his hand up and traced the lines on the inside of him palm. I thought about everything Zayn confessed to me, and I wanted to help him see his value, but I didn't know how. I could be there for him, I could support him, and I could love him even if it terrified me, but I had no clue how to make him see what I did.

I looked at his arm, seeing the thin white lined scars that told so much of his past. These were early on. I've never seen the ones on his thighs. I've never seen the word that he carved into his skin. Sin.

I heard the front door to Zayn's house open, and I knew it was his aunt. I also knew that she should probably know about this. She should know because she would know how to help Zayn while I felt clueless.

I kissed Zayn's knuckles before I climbed out of bed, making sure not to wake Zayn. Quietly, I opened his bedroom door and walked out of the room, making my way toward the noise of his aunt.

I stepped into the living room, and I saw her setting down three or four canvases against the wall. There were paints and oil pastels on the table, and I cleares my throat to get her attention.

She turned to me and smiled as soon as she saw me. "Oh, hello dear. I didn't expect you to be here. Where's Zayn?" She questioned, setting down the last blank canvas and turning her full attention to me.

"He's sleeping," I answered, and she nodded as if she expected nothing less. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. It's about Zayn," I said, and she noticed my worried expression.

"Of course," She said, motioning for us to sit on the couch. I followed and sat on the opposite side, thinking of how I wanted to start this. "What is it, sweetie?" She asked, becoming worried herself.

"I... I don't know if Zayn'll be pissed at me for telling you this, but I feel like you need to know. Because he's hurting, and I have no idea how to help him," I began, and she scooted closer to me, rubbing my arm in comfort.

"Liam, if you feel like I should know, then I probably should. Just like Zayn felt I should know about your pain," She reminded, and I nodded, never thinking it would be this hard to tell about someone else's problems.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Some kids at school found out about Zayn's dad," I divulged, and Colette took a deep breath in at the news. "It started with a rumor because Zayn chose to defend me, but they found his record online..." I paused, still not believing that they actually dug that deep. "And they're reminding Zayn of so many things. I can tell he wants to shut down. He thought about self-harm again, and I just don't know how to help him. I'm sorry," I finished, finally letting out all of tears that I wanted to cry for Zayn. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Aww, Liam, you don't have to be sorry, dear," She comforted, immediately wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. It made me think of my mum, and I missed her so much.

"Zayn was defending me. That's how it started, and now he-" I began, but she cut me off

"That may be true, but you can't blame yourself. None of this is your fault. His father started it all, and those kids are bringing it back. You did nothing, sweetheart. And Zayn wouldn't want you to feel this way," She pointed out.

"But I don't know how to help him! He feels empty inside. He hates himself, but he's so beautiful inside and out. And I don't know how to mend what has been destroyed," I weeped.

"You can mend with love, Liam," She assured quietly. "Love can break you, but it can also complete you and heal you," She kissed the top of my head, and I nodded along to her words.

"We'll get Zayn help, but he needs to know there's more life has to offer him. I think you show him that," She confessed. She's seen the way we were around each other, and I was thankful that she approved of everything.

"I told him I love him," I admitted as I pulled out of her hold and wiped my eyes. She smiled proudly at me, and I don't think I've ever truly had that kind of acceptance for my emotions. It made me feel as if this was okay to confess.

"He loves you, too," She insisted, and I nodded, smiling at the thought. I knew Zayn loved me. I felt it with ever fiber of my existence.

"I know," I declared, and she ruffled my hair in happiness.

"We'll get him help, Liam. I promise you that. We're all in this together," She said, and I trusted her. Zayn meant a lot to her, and she was an amazing mother figure.

"I'm going to go back with him now. Would it be okay if I slept here tonight?" I asked, but there was really no need as I got an instant nod.

"I think that would mean a lot to Zayn. Just be there for him," She finished, standing up and grabbing all of the paints from the table. She gave me a smile before walking down the hall to put things away.

I sat on the couch for a while longer, letting myself have a moment before I stood up and made my way back to Zayn's room.

He was in the same position I left him in, and I couldn't help but admire his bare skin. His skin was tan and smooth, any mark of harm unnoticable, all torture hidden beneath. Whereas my scars were obvious, displayed on my skin for all to see.

I made my way back to the bed and crawled under the covers with Zayn. I lifted his arm and laid underneath it. I heard him take a deep breath in, and he mumbled out, "Where did you go?"

I felt him kiss my shoulder as I replied. "Your aunt came home. I just went to talk with her," I said. I wasn't planning on hiding anything from him.

"Did you tell her?" He asked, pulling me closer to him, and I nodded, leaving my head against the pillow.

"Yes. Are you mad?" I questioned, and he smiled sleepily. His eyes never opened, and I knew he was exhausted still. The whole day was a huge weight on him.

"No. I'm not mad," He sighed, and kissed my neck gently. "I love you, princess."

I swallowed thickly, relieved that he wasn't pissed at me for talking about his situation. I'm guessing he understood my need to make sure he would be alright.

"I love you, too," I whispered, moving to rest my head on his shoulder instead. And it elt peaceful. Everything between us felt okay in that moment. "Go back to sleep, Zayn."

"Are you staying?" He asked, and I heard the hope in his voice. He wanted me to, and I wanted to be here with him.

"Yes. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you," I said, and I meant it in more ways than one.

He nodded, and we both fell silent. There were no more words spoken, only evened out breathing and the familiar thrum of heartbeats. And I wondered how we ever got here. I didn't really know, but I loved it.

I shut my eyes and thought about the advice Zayn's aunt gave. You can mend with love. And it had to be true.

It just had to be.


	49. Mollify

I woke up earlier than I should have. The clock on Zayn's nightstand read 3:37 a.m. I sighed, feeling completely exhausted, but sleep wasn't an option. There was so much that was flooding through my mind, and I had no control over shutting it down.

My dad's hearing was today. My mum was probably a worried mess about it all, but I was just as afraid. I didn't know how to sit in front of people and discuss the worst part of my life to them. The very secret I've hidden for so long. I wasn't even strong enough to tell my own mother, and now I would be forced to tell complete strangers.

I closed my eyes, and I remembered the very first day my dad hit me. I was so young, and I was frozen in complete shock at the first blow.

"C'mon, Li. The baseball is in one of these boxes," My dad coaxed. I followed him to the stairs that led to the basement. It was awfully dark, and I wasn't a fan of the dark.

I stood at the top of the stairs, peering down into the darkness as he jogged down the steps and turned back to look up at me. "What's wrong, Liam?" He questioned. I leaned forward trying to see through the darkness, but I couldn't see a thing.

"It's dark," I stated, intertwining my fingers together nervously. I knew there must be a light somewhere, but I also knew I wouldn't be able to reach it. There was something unsettling to me about not being able to reach the light source. "And I thought we weren't suppose to be down here. Didn't you say there was mold?" I interrogated, attempting to get out of stepping foot into the basement.

"It'll only be a second. I'll turn the light on. I need your help to find the ball if we're going to play catch. Don't you want to be brave?" He replied, and I peered into the darkness again, nothing but pitch blackness, and I gave out a deep breath before nodding my head.

"O-okay. I can be brave," I decided. I set aside my fears and descended down onto the first step. I stood still for a moment, turning to look at the light in the hallway that seemed so welcoming. It wasn't too late to chicken out, but I looked back down at my dad, who gave an encouraging smile, and I knew I couldn't.

This was my chance to win him back. He's been crazy busy lately, and he seemed to be speaking to me less and less. It began to make me question whether it was a good idea to tell my mum and dad about my first crush. Because it wasn't on a girl-- rather it was on a boy.

I sucked up all of my childish fears and made my way down the rest of the stairs, stopping directly in front of my dad and looking up at him with a proud smile. He gave out a small chuckle and ruffled up my hair a bit.

"See? It's not so bad. Come on. I think it's back here somewhere," My dad said, turning to walk deeper into the basement, and I wondered why he didn't turn the light on now. It would help us see better, but I didn't want to question him too much. I didn't want to lose what we were slowly rebuilding.

"So, how's it going with that crush of yours? Are you over him yet?" He asked, and the tone in his voice sounded a little off, but I chose not to question it. I followed him, answering quietly.

"Not really. He's really nice to me," I admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed that I was discussing this with my dad. It was weird because he seemed to completely turn off the first time I mentioned the crush I had.

"They usually are when they want something," He said, and I furrowed my eyebrows, confused on what he meant. I stopped following his steps and swallowed before speaking up again.

"What do you mean?" I asked, feeling nervous for some reason. I didn't like the sudden turn this conversation took or the feel of the atmosphere around us.

He turned to me, and I could make out the almost sinister smile on his lips. I began to shrink in on myself, and I found myself wanting to disappear. I had that sudden child-like urge to call out for my mum, but it would be useless because she was at work at the moment.

"Do you actually think that boy could like you?" My dad laughed humorlessly, and his words cut. I already felt like I didn't fit in at school. I really didn't have any friends, and I felt inferior to every other person in my grade. 

"I-I don't kn-know. I-" I began, trying to move past the fact that his words hurt me. I didn't know how to answer the question though.

"The answer is no, Liam. He couldn't like you because you're nothing," He began, and I felt tears begin to build. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to believe that my dad was actually saying the things he was saying.

"That boy probably knows you like him, and he'll take advantage of that. Does he choose you as his partner for projects and classwork?" He asked, his smile growing as I didn't answer because I was ashamed that the answer was yes. "Exactly. He's using you for grades, Liam. He's probably not even gay like you," He pointed out.

"No, he's not mean. He's not like that-" I tried to reason, but my dad shook his head with a laugh.

"Of course he is! You're nothing to that boy. You're too young to even know what it means to like someone. And this whole liking boys thing is probably just a phase that you'll get through eventually-"

"It's not! Mum said that she's proud of me for figuring out who I am, and she said that as my dad that you should-"

"I am not your dad!" He yelled, and I froze in shock as I felt a stinging pain across my cheek. "No son of mine is going to be a fucking fag!"

The tears welled up quickly in my eyes, and I couldn't stop them from spilling over. They rushed down my cheeks, and I never tried to stop them, too busy nursing my wounded cheek. Sadly, I couldn't even do that.

"Stop fucking crying, Liam. Real men don't cry and whine like a little bitch," He said, cursing more than I've ever heard before, and I cried out in pain as I felt him yank onto my hair, feeling like it would rip from my scalp.

"When mum finds out about this she-" I whimpered out, feeling more afraid than I ever have before. But mainly I was just confused. I didn't know what I did wrong. What did I do to make my father want to hurt me? What could I have done to stop this moment from happening?

"Then it's a damn good thing you're not going to tell her," He said, turning on the light suddenly. I blinked a few times before my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and what I saw was absolute horror.

Chains were mounted on the back wall of the basement, and it wasn't hard to guess their purpose. There were cuffs to fit around a person's wrist, and I felt my heart race with pure terror.

I attempted to run away, screaming and crying like never before as my dad caught me and lifted me up off of the ground, walking me toward the chains. "Dad, please... please no!" I cried, kicking and screaming for some kind of mercy, but all I received was a harsh shove against the wall, making my head spin due to its impact on the hard wall.

"I-I'm s-sorry. I'm so sorry. W-what did I d-do? I'll stop. I promise I'll stop! Please dad!" I begged as he tightened the chains around my arms and legs, but I could tell I wasn't getting through to him. His face was stone cold. No emotion was displayed. It was like no one was there at all. And all I could do was cry as he grabbed one of his belts from off the top of a box.

And all I remembered was how time seemed to drag on through every single assault on my skin; how I begged him to stop, that it hurt, that I was sorry, asked him why he was doing what he was doing, saying I loved him; how much it hurt when the metal part of his belt cut through skin, blood slowly dripping from my body; how much I wish I never went into the darkness of the basement.

And then, I blacked out, the darkness being my only way out of the pain.

I opened my eyes in fright, and I noticed the tears that were streaming down my face. The memory was one I tried to suppress for so long, but I knew it was impossible. I couldn't forget that intense moment of betrayal. I couldn't forget the damage done when I had the scar to prove it wasn't just a nightmare.

I let out a shaky breath as more tears fell down my cheeks, falling onto the pillow below me, staining the cover in small, wet drops. I felt all of the pain from that day fester up inside of me, and I did my best to cry silently.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, swallowed back all of my cries, curled in on myself, doing my best to not disturb Zayn's sleep, but it all proved futile as I let out a sob, trying to cover it up with my hand to my mouth. I failed, and I couldn't control the cries that ripped through the air after that.

I felt Zayn moving beside me, groaning from having been woken up, and I felt my tears fall quicker, hot, heavy, and full of shame.

"Liam?" He questioned in a tired voice, but the tone quickly became full of worry as he realized what was going on. "Liam, what's wrong? What happened?" He asked, sitting up and collecting me in his arms, which only made my crying worse.

"I-I'm s-sorry," I managed to get out between gasps for breath. They were words that I never seemed to escape. They were words that begged for some type of forgiveness, but they were empty. They were begs for mercy that never came. "I'm s-so sorry."

"What are you talking about? What are you sorry for?" Zayn asked, and I heard the panic building in his voice. He was probably terrified of waking up to me in this state, but I never intended to wake him up.

"I- I told him I was sorry, but he didn't stop... he never stopped," I rambled out, reaching for Zayn and grabbing onto any part of him to keep him close. There was some irrational fear going through my mind that my dad would appear and rip me away from Zayn to continue his torturing. I felt just as helpless as I did when I was younger.

"Liam, you're dad isn't here to hurt you," Zayn said, immediately catching on to what I must have been talking about. "He's behind bars right now. He can't get to you, and I wouldn't let him," He said, but nothing was registering in my mind.

"I don't even know what I did wrong. I d-don't know. I n-never knew. He just...." I stopped to breathe, feeling a pounding in my head due to all of my tears and my lack of oxygen intake. "I wanted to fix things with him. I wanted to talk to him again, but I... he just... it hurt so much. It hurts," I whimpered out, hating the way my voice sounded when it broke and cracked.

I sobbed into Zayn's neck, knowing that my tears were wetting his skin, but he didn't seem fazed at all. He held me tightly, his hand rubbing up and down my back as some sort of anchor for me, and I heard him whisper softly in my ear.

"Shh, princess. I know. I know that you're afraid of what happened, and I understand that the pain doesn't just fade away, but you are so strong," He began, and I closed my eyes as I listened to him talk, wanting to only concentrate on the peaceful sound of his voice, the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, and the way he breathed out gently. It was all like a blissful lullaby.

"You're so strong, Liam. And you're almost done. You're winning this battle, and you're not alone in it. Whatever hold he has over you... I know you can break it. Just like you're helping me, I'll help you, too," He whispered, pressing a kiss to my head, and I sniffled as my tears slowed.

"I love you so much. More than I ever thought could be possible," He admitted, and I took a deep breath in as he lifted me up until I was looking him in the eyes. "I am in love with you, Liam. And I will never, ever let that man hurt you again," He finished, his voice strong and confident.

I looked into his eyes for a while, seeing the honesty within them, and I nodded. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to Zayn's, and he kissed me back gently. He was always so careful, and it always made me feel like I was floating. I've never had gentle before him, and I never knew how much I needed it until him.

"I love you, too," I whispered, sniffling a bit as I wiped away my tears, feeling ashamed about my overreaction. But Zayn took away my hands from my face and kissed both of them before smiling softly at me and pressing a kiss to my cheek.

"It's okay to cry. You told me that," He reminded, and I could only nod again, amazed by how much we've both grown and changed over time. Maybe our pain was still there, but we were slowly claiming victories over them.

"You don't have to come today if you don't want to," I informed, knowing that a lot has been going on in his life as well. After last night, I had no clue where his head was. I didn't know if he was okay or not, and I didn't want to push him. I would understand if he didn't want to attend.

"I'm going," He declared, lifting up my chin until I was looking at him. "I'm going to be there for you. I'm not letting you face him alone," He added, and I nodded once again, fighting back a second wave of tears that threatened to break free.

"Thank you," I managed to say. I wanted to say so much more, but my head was too clouded to think up the words to describe how I felt. I've never had support before, and it was something that made a person feel almost invincible. Like I could do anything. Like I wasn't being held back by the chains of my past.

"I have to go home to change," I announced, knowing that it was too early, but it was all I was worried about. I also knew I had to talk to my mum. Things were a bit shaky between us still, and I needed some type of closure. I didn't want to lose both of my parents.

"It's barely going to be four o'clock. We can just lay here and talk if you can't go back to sleep," Zayn offered, and it sounded nice. I wanted to forget things for a moment. I wanted to forget everything outside of Zayn's room and just revel in the feeling of Zayn's arms.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, both of us situating ourselves until we were laying on our sides, facing each other. There was a small distance between us, but I didn't feel far from Zayn. It felt like we were closer than we've ever been before. It was unusual, but it calmed me down.

"Well, we never did finish asking each other twenty questions," He pointed out, and I smiled fondly at the memory. It was another time I woke up early, and Zayn stayed up with me without a single complaint. We weren't dating then, and we weren't even sure on what we truly were to each other, but Zayn still took care of me.

"I think you had the last question, so I should start first this time," I said, and Zayn agreed with a small laugh. I thought for a while, trying to figure out what I really wanted to know about Zayn.

"Why did you decide to finally come out to the school?" I asked. It was something I've been thinking about for a while. I knew it must've had something to do with the way Kyle acted, but it takes a lot to put on the courage to come out to a whole school, let alone one person.

"Because I realized I was being stupid. I was hiding how I felt about you, and I didn't like the way it felt. And I knew... that if I wanted to prove how much you meant to me that it had to be done. I didn't want to lose you again, and I didn't want people to hurt you," He replied. I understood. We've both been through the ache of losing each other, and it was something I never wanted to experience again.

"My turn," He continued, taking a pause to ponder his question. He squinted his eyes as he looked at me, and his question made me roll my eyes. "What did Niall say to you the night of the showcase?"

"Well, he told me that he liked me and that he wanted to take me out, but you heard all of that before you stormed off," I said, and Zayn groaned in embarrassment. "And I told him that I liked someone else, and he asked me if it was you. And he said that he understood, and he's backing off, so you don't have to castrate him or whatever you planned on doing," I teased.

"I wasn't going to castrate him," Zayn scoffed, but I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he sighed. "Okay, so maybe I really wanted to hurt him, but I just-" I cut him off as I laughed at his words. And I actually felt light for a second, as if nothing was weighing me down.

Zayn laughed as well and shook his head. "Alright, alright. Your turn, Mr. Payne," He teased back, and I smiled before thinking of another question. And I was surprised that the mood shifted to something so positive so quickly.

"Okay, um, when did you realize... that you loved me?" I questioned quietly. It was still so new to me. Even if he said it every single day, I could never believe that someone could feel that way about me. But I knew he did. I felt it in his words, his touches, his presence.

"I'd say it was around the time when you stayed over for the weekend. When you had to get away from your mum and dad," He reminisced, and I could only look at him as my heartbeat pounded in my chest like never before. "But I knew for sure that I did when I told you about my dad... and you didn't run away."

The small amount of space between us close as I scooted closer to Zayn, resting our foreheads together and sighing in content. Maybe our lives were a mess, but it was nice to forget in this moment.

"I pretty much told everyone else that I loved you before I told you," I confessed, and Zayn looked at me in surprise.

"When did you realize it?" He asked, and I heard the waver in his voice, as if he wanted to cry, but he smiled softly at me while I spoke.

"I think that I loved you when you first told me that you loved me," I confessed, hearing Zayn take a deep breath in at the confession. "I was just so hurt and angry at you then, and I know it was irrational, but I was. I admitted it to myself the next morning because I still had your jacket, and it smelled like you, and I just... I'm so sorry, Zayn," I sighed.

"It's okay. I know now, and I wouldn't have left you. I would love you regardless. I think that's what scared me about it all," He thought aloud, and I nodded.

"I told Louis first. Then Niall knew. And your aunt found out. And I know that Harry's pretty observant, so he probably knew as well," I rambled on, hearing Zayn laugh a bit.

"So literally everyone else knew except me," He said, and I couldn't help but frown at that. I made him feel as if I didn't love him. He must've felt like the relationship was one-sided through a lot of it, like he was loving someone who could never love him back.

"I should have told you sooner, I was just... I was afraid that I would confess and then everything would come crashing down. And we still have so many obstacles to face, but I just had to get it out last night," I apologized, closing my eyes in my guilt.

"Hey, it's okay, princess," Zayn said softly, and I could hear the affection in his voice. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling at me. "I could have waited forever to hear it," He whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"You don't have to anymore," I smiled back. "I love you, Zayn."

He smiled brightly, brighter than the sun that was peaking out over the horizon, and I felt him peck my lips. "I love you, Liam," He replied.

We laid there silently, allowing a bit of time to tick by, and Zayn broke the silence with a question that popped the little bubble of a world that he and I created.

"What are you going to say today?" He asked in such a soft voice that I wouldn't have heard him if I wasn't so close.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "Whatever they want to know."

I felt Zayn kiss the top of my head, and I closed my eyes again, trying to block out everything except for this moment. But I knew the events of today would have to be faced eventually.

And I was glad I wouldn't have to face them alone.  
\------------------------------------------------------

The court room was large and intimidating. It was nearly silent; only a few officials were conversing in quick bursts of speech. Being in the building made everything feel that much more real. Being in the presence of a judge and lawyers made my hands shake, but I knew I had to stay as calm as I possibly could.

I sat beside my mum at a brown, wooden table. Our lawyer was a woman who seemed nice enough, and she talked us through everything that would happen today, but I could still tell how nervous my mum was as well. Zayn sat in the first row behind us. His aunt decided to come along as well, and it felt great knowing that I had both of their support.

"Liam, if they ask you anything that makes you too uncomfortable, you can-" My mum began, but I cut her off.

"I know, mum," I assured her, and I watched as she nodded and continued wringing her fingers. I took a deep breath before reaching over and holding her hand, squeezing it to let her know that even if this family was breaking apart physically, I didn't want to lose the bond we had before it all.

She looked up at me in shock, but she gave a thankful, teary-eyed smile as she squeezed my hand back, patting my hand in return. And I felt like things could mend between us, and things felt alright, but then the double doors flew open and I saw my dad in cuffs. He walked slowly into the room, taking his time as if he was making sure his presence was known, but it was all I could think about any way. The two policemen behind him led him to a chair beside his lawyer, and he sat, staring at his feet before finally lifting his head.

He stared at my mum for a moment, and I couldn't determine the look in his eyes. I couldn't tell whether it was longing or something else, but I knew it wasn't love. It didn't have that softness that love puts in a person's eyes. It wasn't the way Zayn looked at me. It wasn't the way my mum looked at him in the photograph she kept. It wasn't love at all.

I didn't have time to question it long before his eyes drifted over to me, and I was too familiar with the look in his eyes. Pure anger and disgust. They held a fire that was only burning to destroy, and all I saw when I looked into his eyes was a threat that lingered there. The threat to get me back for putting him in this position. He always said he would kill me if anyone knew, and the look in his eyes was that of a man that would kill in an instant.

I jumped as the judge's voice was suddenly booming to fill the quiet room. "The hearing will now begin. We will be asking for descriptions upon Mr. Payne's actions in order to thoroughly penalize him. Mrs. Payne, the court would like to begin with you. Mrs. Weston, you may question your client first," He requested, and my mum nodded uncontrollably in her nervousness.

She gave my hand one last squeeze before standing up and setting her purse down in her seat. She walked around the table and made her way to the stand. I could see her trembling in fright from where I was sitting, and I was feeling the exact same way she was.

"Mrs. Payne, the court understands that you had no knowledge of the fact that your husband was physically abusing your child. Is that correct?" Mrs. Weston asked, and my mum nodded before realizing it was necessary to give a verbal response.

"Yes. I had no knowledge," She muttered out quietly, eyes looking down at the microphone she spoke into.

"And how is it that you never knew?" Mrs. Weston asked. I saw my mum begin to wring her hands again as she slowly answered the question.

"A few years ago... well, it was quite a while ago actually... my husband informed me that there was a mold forming in our basement. He told us that we shouldn't be down there, so we cleared out some materials we really needed, and he said he would take care of the molding. That was... almost eight years ago," She laughed nervously, and I could hear the shame in her voice.

"The basement was where it happened, I presume?" Mrs. Weston questioned, and my mum gave a small "yes" in response. "And you never noticed any signs of bodily harm to your son?" She asked.

"No. They were never visible. But I... I knew he was sore a few times. I assumed it was from playing too much as a child, running and climbing everything in sight. And when he got older, I... those signs were no longer visible, so I assumed I was correct," She answered. My mum looked up at me for a second, and I saw the way tears were beginning to form in her eyes.

"What was found in the basement, Mrs. Payne?" She was asked, and my mum looked at her hands as she replied in small sobs.

"Chains. There were chains on he wall to hold a p-person in place. There were items used for torture... and there was blood. S-so much blood," She stuttered out.

"Have you ever seen your husband display even a fraction of hostility toward your son?" Mrs. Weston asked, and my mum let out a small sob.

"He was never accepting of his sexuality, but he never acted hostile toward him. He drank lot, and I knew he could get a bit aggressive when he drank, but he never lashed out. Yes, he threw out words that were offensive, but he never seemed to want to hurt Liam until a couple weeks ago," She said, and I remembered that night. I ran to Zayn's house because it was my only place of safety, and I guess it was the night I truly found a home.

"And what was your reaction upon seeing this hostility toward your son?" Our lawyer questioned, and my mum was full-on crying now. She wiped away a few tears before answering.

"I sat him down and asked if he felt unsafe around his father. I asked him whether he's ever hurt him before. He said no. He told me his father never hurt him, and I chose to believe him," My mum weeped.

"Thank you, Mrs. Payne. That is all," Mrs. Weston dismissed, and my mum nodded, watching as she walked back to sit near me, and I didn't even know I was holding my breath as my dad's lawyer walked up near the stand.

"Mrs. Payne, you say that you never noticed any bodily harm to your son, but if there were scars upon your child's body, wouldn't any active mother notice them?" She interrogated, her voice lacking any emotion.

"B-by the time the abuse began, Liam was old enough to bathe himself, clothe himself, and get himself ready for bed at night. The scars are on his waist and chest. I never saw them," My mum replied, and it was true. I never let her see them, and I never risked the chance of her seeing them. It's the very reason I swam with a shirt on when I was young.

"I see," The lawyer mused, pretending to consider the validity of her words. It was clear that she had some kind of doubt in my mum, and it made me want to defend her, but I knew I should wait to speak. "And when you asked your son if he felt safe around his father, did you notice any signs in his behavior that stated otherwise?"

I watched as my mum nodded, more tears streaming down her cheeks. "Yes. I saw fear in his eyes, but I... I didn't want to believe that the man I married was a monster. No wife or mother wants to believe that," She admitted.

"So, you saw fear in your son's eyes, yet you chose to drop the subject in order to maintain your sense of a secure life?" The lawyer asked, and our lawyer stood up at the question.

"Objection. That question holds to speculate the intentions of my client," Mrs. Weston stated, and the judge nodded.

"The objection is sustained. Ms. Moore, you may rephrase or ask another question," The judge ruled, and Mrs. Weston sat back down.

"Why did you not choose to push the subject further?" Ms. Moore questioned after sighing at the objection.

My mum stayed silent for a moment, and I knew this was difficult for her as well. She was testifying against my dad, but she was also being half-blamed or suspected for allowing the abuse to happen. I saw her wipe away a tear, and I felt so much guilt flood through me. If I had only told her from the start, we wouldn't be here, and she wouldn't feel this way. The only person at fault for allowing it to drag on was me.

"I trusted my son," She finally voiced, looking up at Mrs. Moore, who only nodded and walked back to her seat.

"No further questions," She said, and my mum was released from the stand. She wiped away the many tears littering her face, before coming down from the stand and walking back to where I was sitting. 

"Liam Payne, please come up to the stand." I heard the judge voice.

I sat frozen in fear for a while, looking over to my dad whose eyes were super glued on me. They held such evil in them, and all I could think about was the way I was helpless as he tormented me in the worst possible way. Helpless under his cold, deathly gaze.

"Liam Payne," I heard again, but I couldn't make my legs move. I saw my dad smirk a sinister smirk, and I knew that he knew he still had some kind of power over me.

I knew I would never get rid of the memories of that basement. I knew I could never get rid of the scars that covered my body from his hands. I knew that I would always think of him every time someone stared at me in hatred or disappointment or disgust. I knew that he would always keep that piece of me that he forcefully took at such a young age. I knew that, and it rendered me useless.

"Liam," I heard Zayn's voice, and I felt his touch on my shoulder. "You can do this, princess. We're all here for you. He cannot touch you. He cannot hurt you here. He has no power here. You do. You control him," He reminded, and I let out a deep breath before I stood up and made my way slowly to the stand on shaky legs.

I reached the chair, and I took a seat, looking around and seeing the faces of law officials staring at me. They seemed completely void of emotions, all of their faces holding the same blank, professional stare. It felt like exposing personal emotions to robots that would shame you for feeling at all.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, doing my best to stay calm, feeling the verge of a panic attack creeping up on me. Because I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to ever see my dad again. I didn't want to have to say the things I've been through out loud. I didn't want to relay it like it was a story I made up.

"Liam, how old were you when the abuse began?" Mrs. Weston asked, and I thought about that day, feeling a shiver make its way up my spine. It was almost ludicrous to think about how much I trusted my father one minute only to completely fear him the next.

"Ten years old," I replied, never opening my eyes because I didn't want to see all of the people listening, but I could still hear the clicking of the court reporter's keys. I knew everything I said, anything said at all in the room, was being written out. It would be filed, and it would never die.

"Has it always been physical abuse?" I was asked, and I gulped before replying.

"Physical and verbal," I admitted, remember the many heinous things that would escape my dad's mouth. All of the threats, slurs, and curses he projected upon me.

"What would your dad say that would classify as verbal abuse?" She asked, and I swallowed thickly, tightening my jaw as I spoke.

"He would say that I was an ugly fag. He would say that no one could love me. He would say that I was the worst mistake he ever made in his life. He would tell me that I would never amount to anything. He would say that I wasn't his son because he could never create such a disappointment. He would threaten to kill me, and the very last thing he told me was that he never loved me, and that it was all my fault," I finished, hating the way I heard his voice in my head as I spoke the words. Every single word was accompanied by such vivid memories.

His words affected me like nothing else has before. They were the reason I quit eating full meals. They were the reason I stopped caring. They were the reason I slowly began to despise my very existence. And they played on a loop all of the time.

"How often were you physically and/or verbally abused?" Mrs. Weston asked, and I could feel the emotions building within me. My hands began to shake, and I held them tightly in my lap.

"Every day. Some days were worse than others," I confessed, hearing my mum's sob fill the room. I heard Colette whisper something to her, but I couldn't focus on that. All I could think about was the monster that I called my father.

"May you describe the actions your father did to hurt you?" He asked, and I wanted to close in on myself and refuse to answer any more questions, but something told me to keep going. "It's alright, Liam. You can say it," Mrs. Weston whispered to me in assurance, and I nodded.

"He would chain me to the basement wall and hit me. He'd punch me and kick me until I passed out. Sometimes he'd beat me with his belt until... welts and blood appeared on my skin. He enjoyed my pleading for it to end, and eventually I just tried not to scream. Nobody would hear me anyway...." I voiced, and I hated the way it was getting harder to speak.

"Sometimes he would... wrap his hand... or some other item around my neck, choking me until little black spots appeared in my vision. H-he has burned me with a lighter on my neck... twice. H-he cut me... once on my neck with a pocketknife, and that- that was the last time he hurt me," I managed to say, and I opened my eyes, looking over at Zayn.

He was nodding along to my words, and his eyes looked worn and sad. Tears were building up in them, but he held them back, doing his best to send me an encouraging smile. And through all of the pain in his eyes, there was pride. Pride and love.

And I have never felt more thankful for anyone in my entire life. I was completely thankful for Zayn Malik because without him, I would have still been stuck in that same situation. My dad would have continued hurting me in any way possible. Without Zayn, I probably would have ended up dead at the hands of my father.

"And has your dad ever abused anyone else you know or are acquainted with?" She asked, and I thought about the times when he would threaten to hurt Zayn or kill him.

"He's never abused anyone else, but he's threatened to hurt the people I love," I confessed. It was something Zayn knew of. It was one of my reasons for not wanting him to get involved.

"Thank you, Liam. There are no further questions from me," Mrs. Weston said, and I felt my nerves shoot through the roof as she sat down and my dad's lawyer stood up, making her way slowly over to me.

"The abuse went on for seven, almost eight, years. Is that correct?" She asked after a moment, and I verified the statement as true. "Now, why did you never speak of it to anyone? You could have had the chance to free yourself from the harm, but you chose to remain silent, which seems to me like-"

"Objection," Our lawyer said, looking at the judge to pass up the question, but I shook my head.

"I'll answer," I said, and I looked back over at the woman asking the question. She didn't seem fazed. She had no guilt for defending someone as low as my father. She simply didn't care.

"I never told anyone because my father said he would kill me if I did," I began, finally looking over at the very man who turned my life into a living hell. It was a nightmare without falling to sleep. "And it's not that I would have cared much if I died because he already killed my will to live, but he threatened to hurt the people I loved, and I couldn't allow that to happen. I was afraid that they would get hurt, and I would lose them. I couldn't risk that," I announced, my eyes never leaving his cold, glaring ones.

"You say you never wanted to get anyone else involved, but in the police report, your mum states that she found out from a guardian of your friend, is that correct?" She questioned, and I turned my gaze from my father to her.

"My boyfriend," I corrected while nodding my head, and she smiled, as if she was embarrassed by her mistake, but I knew she wasn't. It was an act she was playing up, and I found it repulsive.

"What role did he play in this?" She asked, and our lawyer called for another objection with a sigh.

"The question involves persons outside of the case," Mrs. Weston commented, but Ms. Moore spoke up.

"It is simply an investigative question that will hold no speculation or folly," She insisted, and the judge nodded his approval.

"Objection overruled. Get to the point Mrs. Weston," He ordered firmly, and she smiled thankfully. It reminded me much of Kyle's smile whenever he got his way with things.

"Is it possible that instead of a case of domestic abuse within the home that there could be abuse from outside of the home? Has your boyfriend ever hit you?" She asked, and I heard the calls for another objection, but I was already answering in anger. I couldn't believe she would try to twist this around to be something that it wasn't.

"No! He doesn't hurt me," I replied, and then the questions were coming like spit-fire.

"Doesn't as in he no longer hits you? Records show that you have been in the same school and in close boundaries and classrooms around the same time the abuse began, is that correct?" She laid out, and I was slowly becoming frustrated.

"Yes, but-" I tried to get out, but she was already speaking again.

"And there are rumors around the local high school about a case involving homophobia, is that true?" She asked, and I felt the tears building in my eyes.

"Yes, it's true, but I just-"

"And is it also true that your boyfriend was also involved in a case of child abuse himself? Which may be where his need for hurting others stems from as well," She pointed out, and I looked over to Zayn to see the way he seemed to be breaking up upon the words she was saying. I watched as his aunt took a hold of his hand and whispered words to him to soothe him down.

"I c-can't-" I began, feeling a tear finally fall, but I was cut off by Mrs. Weston this time, who spoke in a loud, angry voice.

"Objection! Not only is this speculation, but it is also hearsay. There is no place for rumors in this case. May I remind the court that there are chains inside of the victim's home which would not have been able to be placed by anyone outside of the home. This questioning is completely absurd!" She voiced, and there was silence over everyone until the judge spoke up.

"Objection sustained. Ms. Moore, I recommend that you wrap up your questioning," The judge said, and she gave out a small huff of annoyance before clearing her throat and turning to face me.

"Very well," She agreed quickly. "Liam, are there any fond memories you hold of your father?" She questioned, and I knew what she was attempting to do. She was trying to shine some sort of light on him to show him as a loving man, but I had no fond memories. I haven't had a peaceful moment with him in years.

"All of my good memories I was either too young to remember or forgot over the countless years of torture," I said, swallowing back all of my emotions.

Ms. Moore looked me in the eyes, and I saw defeat in hers. She knew there was no other way she could attempt to twist this story, and I was thankful for that. "Alright. I have no further questions," She said quietly, tapping her nails on the stand before going back to her seat.

"Before the end of this session, the court would like to hear a statement from you, Liam. Any words you may want to say to assist this hearing," The judge said, and I nodded, looking over to the people who truly meant the most to me. Colette smiled at me, and I realized that she was always offering comfort for others, and it was a beautiful characteristic. Zayn did his best to smile, but I could tell the previous statements were messing with his head and his heart, but the thing that gave me strength in that moment was the unwavering feel of his love and support. And, finally, my mum wiped away more tears as she looked at me with nothing but pure pride on her face. Pride for the way I was actually speaking up in front of strangers about something that has plagued me for years.

"I just want to say... dad," I began, looking over to where the man sat. His smile was wiped off of his face, and he stared at me with uncaring, almost threatening eyes. I wouldn't let him affect me that was anymore though. I had to be strong at least once. I had to win against him at least once.

"You don't even deserve that title," I admitted, laughing humorlessly. "You've caused me more pain than you could ever know, but I think that was your goal. I mean, the very first time you hit me, I apologized. I actually apologized for whatever I did wrong, but now I know that I did nothing wrong. Nothing at all," I said, feeling how confident my voice sounded. It appeared so put together even if I was falling apart inside.

"I liked a boy," I scoffed. "That was my 'big mistake' to you. That was the reason you hated me. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never change who I was, and neither could you. So you beat me until I could no longer stand on my own two feet. You beat me until my blood stained our basement floor. You beat me to cleanse me of my sinning, but you were creating sins of your own. And then you drank. And when you first started, I thought it was because you felt guilty, and I was so hopeful that you would stop hurting me, but that wasn't the case," I reminisced, seeing the way his whole face fell at that statement.

"You drank because you didn't want to remember that I existed in the first place," I said, keeping a straight face and ignoring the tears that would slip down my cheeks. "And when you drank, the beatings were ten times worse. And you broke me. My heart, my spirit, my confidence, yet hardly a bone. You were always so careful in your recklessness," I admitted, feeling like every single thought I've ever had about him was just pouring out of me.

"I still miss the man who told me that he loved me unconditionally. I still miss the man who would call me champ and play baseball with me on the weekends. I still miss the man who always told me that... that he was proud of me because I was a blessing, and I was going to be somebody," I said, ignoring how blurry my vision got as my eyes filled with countless tears.

"I miss him every single day, but I know he's gone. He's been gone for so long, and I can't get him back. And I don't want you back because the monster you've become has ruined every single speck of who that man use to be. And I don't need him because I have two wonderful women who love me and provide for me, I have friends who like me for who I am, and I have a boyfriend who taught me how to love. I have everything you said I would never have. So maybe... no, you were definitely wrong," I stated proudly.

"You stole away my childhood and countless years of my life, but you will not take away my future or my chance for happiness whether you're in jail or out of it. I won't let you," I declared, and I stood from the stand and made my way down where my mum sat.

I immediately pulled her into a hug, knowing that my tears probably wet her shirt, but she didn't mind. In fact, she was crying on me as well. And I knew we still had to talk about things, but I also knew that we would be alright.

I moved over to shake hands with Mrs. Weston, offering her my thanks for her help, and she nodded happily. I then hugged Colette, who laughed happily in my ear as she squeezed me tightly, making me feel safe and warm.

I heard the judge end the session by reading out the crimes against my dad and sentencing him to two consecutive twenty year prison sentences. It was something I never thought I would hear, but I was thankful for it.

I finally got to Zayn, and he pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly yet delicately, before he kissed my lips. I kissed him back, feeling a huge weight fall off of my shoulders. My chest no longer felt tight or constricted by pressure, and I felt like nothing was holding me back anymore.

"I never thought this would happen," I said when we pulled apart, and I rested my forehead against his, adding a bit of pressure in my happiness.

"How does it feel?" He questioned with a smile, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Like freedom," I replied, making him laugh a bit, and I felt so high and giddy in the moment.

"I'm glad you're happy. It's nice to see," He said, bumping my nose with his in a playful manner. I looked into his eyes, and I knew that there would still be difficulties in our lives, there always would be, but we had our ways of working them out together. Mending with love.

"I love you, Zayn," I sighed happily.

"I love you, too, princess. I always will," He vowed, and I believed his words. He gave me a quick peck on the lips before we rushed to catch up with the adults in our lives.

And even though it was a quick peck that happened too quickly for my satisfaction, I didn't feel afraid that he would drift away like I use to. Everything I wanted was at my fingertips, and I was slowly getting a handle on it all.

Slowly but surely, I was mending. We were mending. Together.


	50. Whole

It was completely silent as my mum and I sat on the couch. There were so many words that could be spoken, but I had no clue which to follow. I didn't know how to start the conversation because I was afraid of allowing my hurt to take the lead and ruin things again. I didn't want to risk my relationship with my mum. Not when we use to be so close.

I didn't have to speak first, however, because my mum decided to speak up instead. "Liam, I know I've messed up," She began, and I couldn't meet her eyes no matter how hard I tried. I trained my eyes on the two glasses of pink lemonade that my mum set down in front of us instead.

Pink lemonade. It was always a drink that I found odd. The softness that the pink brought seemed to mix unusually well with the sour of the lemon flavor. Sweet, yet sour. Almost like the current situation we were in.

"I've been... such a bad mum," She said, and I heard the waver in her voice. She was getting emotional, and I knew it was an inevitable part of this conversation, but it made me feel like everything was dropping down on me again. Another weight that I had to lift.

"When Colette first told me about the abuse, I sat for hours questioning if I should believe her or not. She told me to check the basement, and I sat down in the hall, staring at the basement door, too afraid to open it. And I think a part of me knew the truth in that moment," She described, her eyes drifting down and meeting mine, but I didn't think I wanted them to anyway. It would be too much too soon.

"When I finally worked up the courage to walk inside, I saw it all. It was like a horror show in real life. The chains and the blood, I just... I couldn't even think. I could only feel," She said, and I understood what she meant. I couldn't think either when I found her in the basement, and everything I felt in that moment led to me hurting myself even more. Every decision seemed to be worse than the one before. I pushed my mum out, I closed myself off, and I left Zayn all at once.

"And I was still stuck in that 'feeling phase' where all I could think about was the pain, regret, and betrayal," She confessed. She lifted her head up to look me in the eyes, and I broke contact again, staring at anything else.

"I said I still loved your father, and I know how much that must've hurt you. I'm suppose to be your mum. I'm suppose to protect you from harm, not cause it. And I'm sorry. If you felt betrayed, hurt, shocked, stabbed by my words, anything worse than all of that combined, I am so sorry."

"I did," I replied, speaking for the first time since we sat down together. I felt like I should try and communicate my feelings as well. I always seemed to hide things from her, and I didn't want to do that anymore. I needed people to lean on, and I needed my mum.

"I felt all of those feelings. Mainly betrayal," I admitted. I knew it would kill her to know the things I felt, but I had to let it be known. "I felt like you lied to me when you said that I always came first. I felt like you were taking his side in a way. It was like... it was like you were completely overlooking the bruises and pain he caused me over countless years."

Silence fell between us after that, and I found myself gripping onto the couch cushion below me as I began my next statement. "Then I felt ashamed in myself," I continued, and I felt my mum shift closer to me a bit before she rested her hand on my shoulder.

"Oh, Liam. Why? Why would you ever feel that way?" She questioned, and I knew I had to tell her. I was afraid about how she would react when I finally told her everything about Zayn, but I knew I couldn't keep it a secret. She had to understand that it wasn't just the fact that she loved my dad that broke me up inside.

"Zayn wasn't my friend," I revealed, finally meeting her eyes, and I saw the confused look on her face. "We... we were never really friends. He was my...." I trailed off, not wanting to say the word, but my mum grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"What is it, Liam? You can tell me anything. I want you to be able to tell me anything," She said, pushing me to continue, and I broke eye contact again, feeling nervous about her reaction. Everything was jumbled up in my head, and then it all seemed to pour out.

"He was my bully," I blurted out, feeling my heart race after the words spilled out. "He use to always push me around, call me names, contribute to the bruises on my skin. He treated me like crap for years, and somehow I fell in love with him," I laughed, although I failed to see the humor in the situation.

"Maybe I'm sick or completely mental, but I fell in love with someone whose purpose in life use to be to make mine a living hell," I continued, "But I couldn't stop myself from falling! All of the bullying stopped, and I found something human underneath, and I just... I don't know how any of it happened, and I feel like maybe I'm just messed up. I shouldn't love someone who has hurt me the way he has, and I feel ashamed of it because then I think of you and dad and how I blamed you for loving him, and I just, I couldn't-"

"Liam, breathe, honey. Just breathe," My mum interrupted, seeing how worked up I was getting. And I nodded, taking deep breaths as I closed my eyes, trying to clear out the hazy thoughts in my head.

"I'm such a stupid, reckless person," I breathed out, holding my head in shame, and it was silent in the room again. There were no words between us, and I wondered what my mum was thinking. What did she think of Zayn now? Would she forbid us from dating? Did she see me as someone weak and completely hypocritical-- the way I saw myself?

"Liam," My mum began, taking a deep breath in before she continued, "you've always seen the good in people, even if they were terrible human beings. You've always done it. You've always just wanted to make others happy and you give everyone the benefit of the doubt," She said, shifting her body so that she was turned toward me, giving me all her attention.

"I can't... say that I understand what you're feeling specifically. I've never been in your position, but I can say that love itself is mental. It's so confusing and frightening, and I don't think we should ever try to understand it," She described. 

"I'm honestly shocked to find out about your prior relationship to Zayn because you two seem so good together. You seem happy, and now I realize that all of those times you've smiled and laughed around me weren't real happiness. This sort of alters my view of Zayn, I won't lie, but I'm not ashamed of you in any way, and you shouldn't be either," She said.

"He was my bully. I love my bully," I choked out, knowing that something must be wrong with me. I was beginning to wonder if Zayn was right all of those times he told me that I enjoyed being treated badly.

"I know sweetheart. I know," She assured, rubbing my arm in comfort, and I gave a deep breath out. "And I have no idea how you handle that, but all I know is... if he truly has changed, then you can't focus on who he was in the past. It's one of the worst things you can do to yourself and him," She advised. "And I know it's not easy. I can't imagine something like that being easy, and it's not easy for me to attempt to give you advice for this when I know it's someone who's hurt you, but I want you happy, Liam. I'm not saying forget, and I'm not saying to fully forgive either, but you need to decide for yourself whether you want to be in this relationship. I know nothing about what goes on between you two, so I can't fully judge, but you seem happy. That's all I want. I want you happy and safe."

I nodded, and we both welcomed the presence of silence again. I thought of her words, and I knew that it would be toxic to constantly think about our past, but it just plagued me at times. But there was also a sweet patch in the past. The part of Zayn that sat quietly in classes, afraid of judgment and of his feelings for someone he didn't have the guts to speak to-- me. The part of him that was so torn apart and broken by his father. The boy crying in the restroom stall, the boy who cried after breaking Louis' toy, the boy who hurt himself and held a hard exterior to pretend everything was fine. Zayn was complex, and I could never fully wrap my hand around how we got where we were.

"When I said I loved your father, I didn't mean that I loved him in the same way," My mum spoke up again. "I love the memory of the man he use to be. I love the man who helped me through every single struggle even if his parents didn't approve. That loving man whose eyes lit up when he first held you in his arms," She smiled at the memory, but it lacked the glow of joy.

"That's who I love. Not this man I don't even know," She admitted. "It was just that reaction. Like when you tell people you're fine because you keep hoping that you will be. You still have that hope for happiness, even if you fail to feel it. It was that sort of reaction," She described. "I was hoping to still feel love. It's gone now," She voiced quietly.

"Mum, I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry that I constantly pushed you away. I pushed a lot of people away, and it was the worst decision I've ever made," I apologized.

"It's alright, Liam. Sometimes people have to break down to start again," She comforted, and then I felt her hands reach out for both of my shoulders, turning me so that I was completely facing her as well.

"Liam, I am so incredibly proud of you. Not just for keeping everything together today, but I am so proud of how strong you are and how your heart is still good after so much damage has been done. I am so sorry. I love you so much," My mum gushed out, and I was suddenly hugging her tightly.

I felt a tear drip down my cheek, but it wasn't from sadness. It felt amazing to have my mum back this way, and I didn't want to lose her again. We've both been through enough, and we needed to stand by each other more than anything now. Resting my head on her shoulder, I smiled and said "I love you, too, mum."

And a part of me that felt completely shriveled and dead was finally coming alive again.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"Liam, Louis is here to see you," My mum said as she walked into my room. I was writing down some lyrics in my journal, and I quickly scribbled down the last thought I had before shutting it and getting up from my bed.

I walked toward the front door as my mum made her way to the kitchen. She decided that it would be a good idea to invite Zayn and his aunt over for dinner tonight as a way to say thanks for their support today.

I pulled open the front door, and Louis smiled up at me after putting his phone in his pocket. "Hey, mate," He greeted, and I only stepped aside to let him in, a bit confused on what he was doing here. He's only visited once, and that was when Zayn and I were both hurting ourselves in our ignorance and self-hatred.

"Hey, Louis. What brings you by?" I asked, motioning for him to follow behind me as I led him to my room. He immediately sat himself on my bed, and I realized that he had a knack for making himself at home.

"I actually came for a few reasons," He began, and I nodded as I sat on my bed as well, pulling a pillow onto my lap for comfort. It was weird to finally feel comfortable in my house. It was unusual yet wonderful to not have to constantly be on edge.

"First, I heard about the whole hearing thing from Zayn. Sorry I wasn't there, but I'm glad that you're alright. Can't imagine how hard it must've been," He said, looking me in the eyes, and I dropped my gaze to where my fingers were picking at the pillow case.

"Yeah, it was," I breathed out, not even believing everything that has happened today. "And thank you. It's not a big deal if you couldn't be there. It's just nice to actuly have friends now, and feel free," I established, and Louis nodded before he looked down at my bed sheets.

"Also, um, I talked to Zayn. I asked him about everything going on at school. And he... he told me about his dad," He said, and I was a bit surprised. Zayn never wanted to bring it up, so the fact that he willingly told Louis was a big step for him. "Of course, he didn't go into specifics. He just basically said that the rumors were true, that it happened at a young age, and that he never told me because he was afraid I would judge him. It was clearly hard for him to say, but I'm glad I know now," He said, and I wondered why he was confessing this all to me, but I let him continue anyway.

"You know, I use to think Zayn was this homophobic monster, and I was actually afraid of him," He divulged. "I was afraid to be his friend because I was what he hated-- or what I thought he hated. Turns out, he only hated himself," He recounted, and I nodded sadly.

"I was a bad friend, if I'm being honest," He sighed out. "I followed what he said, and I never stood up to him; I never pointed out that what he was doing was wrong. I never asked why he changed. I questioned it internally, but I never pushed for that answer. Now, I wish I had."

"It's not all your fault, Louis. And there's no point in blaming yourself now. All of that's changed," I encouraged, and he nodded before laying back on my bed.

"Oh, by the way, the last thing I came here for was Harry's request," He announced, and I rose my eyebrows in surprise. He sat back up, pulling out a small card from his pocket and handing it to me.

"You have been invited to audition for the late entry talent scholarship into Rosewood School of Arts," He said, speaking in an excited tone. "It's an audition they use for possible new students at the beginning of every school year so that they can find talented performers. You basically audition in front of a board of people. Harry's one of the students selected to the board this year, and he thought you'd be perfect for it," He explained. "Zayn, too. If he's interested. I was hoping you could talk to him about it."

I read over the card, reading the audition date, time, and location. It was an incredible opportunity, and I was left speechless at the news. I never even knew these auditions existed.

"He figured you could go as a songwriter, and I may have mentioned to him that Zayn's played piano since we were little, and he's really good," Louis informed, shrugging his shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal, but it truly was.

"How many people are invited to the audition?" I asked, not wanting to get my hopes up to have them drop in the end. I played with the card in my hand as I listened to Louis' reply.

"Harry says over fifty students get invited. They only pick five," He said, and I swallowed thickly. There was no way I was talented enough to make it into the top five. Maybe Zayn could.

"There's three parts to the audition. One is sending in a video or piece of work to the board, the second is actually performing in front of the board, and the third is an interview so that they can determine if you actually belong there," He added.

I sighed before handing the card back to Louis with a frown on my lips. "Thank you, and tell Harry the same, but I don't think I'm good enough for that," I replied honestly.

"You're kidding me, right?" Louis asked, scoffing at the seriousness on my face. "Liam, you really have no idea how talented you are, do you? I mean, you helped Harry make his song better than it was, and he's attended Rosewood all four years! He's amazing, and the two of you together were phenomenal. And every single work I've ever seen you perform in music classes since grade seven were smashing," He reminded, and I shrugged, still feeling unsure about the whole thing.

"No. I'm not taking no for an answer from you." He slipped the card back into my hand and looked me in the eyes. "You're doing this, and you have three amazing friends, plus Drew, and your loving boyfriend to help you through it. You'll be fine," He insisted, and I couldn't help but smile. It felt good to know that someone believed in me this much.

"Thanks, Louis," I replied. It was all I could think to say, but it would never show how thankful I truly was.

"Anytime." He winked before standing up from my bed. "Well, I should get going. Harry and I are going to the movies. Date night," He smiled, and I nodded before showing him to the door. I shut the door behind him and looked at the small, white card in my hand again.

It felt like I was holding my future in my hands, and I really didn't want to blow it.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"You have a lovely home, Karen," Colette complimented as we all sat around the dinner table, and I was surprised to find that it didn't feel like such a formal dinner. It felt relaxed and comfortable.

"Thank you, Colette. It's not as clean as if could be right now, but that's very appreciated," My mum smiled as she set down the last dish of food on the table. "Well, you can all help yourselves. I'll just serve the drinks."

"Oh, let me help," offered Colette, and my mum accepted the offer graciously. Colette stood from the table and followed my mum into the kitchen, leaving Zayn and me at the table.

"I'm glad this is going well," I admitted, finding anything to talk about so that there wouldn't be any silence. I didn't want any awkwardness tonight, but I had no clue why I was worried when it never felt awkward between me and Zayn. Then again, maybe it was because of the unsure, yet welcoming look my mum gave me when they first arrived.

"Of course it is. My aunt loves you already, and she enjoys your mum's company. Why wouldn't it go well?" Zayn replied. We were across the table from one another, but I would give anything to sit side by side instead.

"I may have told my mum about us," I said, knowing that I would have to clarify. "I told her that you weren't really my friend at the start. I told her you were my bully."

Zayn fell silent as soon as he heard, and I tried to observe his face, tried to understand what he was feeling or thinking, but I came up blank. He was so good at concealing emotions. When he didn't want something to be obvious, he knew how to hold it in.

"What did she say?" He asked, playing with his napkin beside his plate. I was about to speak up, telling him that it wasn't anything hateful, but my mum stepped back into the dining room, followed by Colette, with glasses in her hands.

"Sorry it took a while. We got caught up in a conversation,"" My mum apologized. She set glasses down in front of Zayn and me, before taking her own from Colette. They both sat down, and my mum smiled. "Well, dig in."

My mum and Colette immediately began filling their plates with food, but I only sat staring at all of the fattening food. I still had trouble eating food, but I was doing my best to try. My mum's also been encouraging me to eat, and I don't feel as empty as I use to, but when I've yet to eat a full meal.

I stared at the mashed potatoes, knowing that my mum enjoyed leaving some of the clumps inside, and the way the hard parts poked out from the mashed part made me feel queasy. I stared at the broccoli, not really minding it too much, but knowing there was still a bit of water in the bowl with small pieces of green floating around didn't make me crave any. The roasted chicken breast with lemon seemed fine, but the idea of eating an entire piece made me hesitant to grab any.

I looked across the table, seeing that Zayn hadn't grabbed any food yet either. He was staring down at a blank plate, and I knew he was thinking about what I said. He was probably nervous or terrified to just relax now.

He looked up at me, and he frowned when he noticed that my plate was empty. He moved to grab some broccoli and place it on his plate, and I felt his leg brush against mine underneath the table. I didn't really know what he meant to say with the touch or the soft look he gave me, but I took it to mean that we would do this together; I wasn't alone, and I could do this.

I nodded before reaching out to take a spoonful of broccoli and place it on my plate. I sighed, feeling a bit overwhelmed as I grabbed my fork and poked one of the pieces of broccoli onto it. I lifted it up, letting out another deep breath before I finally ate it, looking at Zayn to see him smiling at me.

Zayn began to fill his plate up as well, but I decided to take it little by little. I heard my mum clear her throat, and I turned to her. She was staring between Zayn and I, and I knew she saw our little interaction. She raised her eyebrow before smiling and taking a drink of her water.

     "So, Zayn," My mum said as soon as she finished swallowing her water. I noticed the way he flinched upon hearing her address him. I desperately wanted to tell him that my mum meant no harm, but I knew he'd realize it soon. "Your aunt tells me that you play piano. Is that right?"

    "Yes, ma'am. I've been playing since I was four or five. Of course, I couldn't really play full songs, and I usually just smashed keys, but that's when I started learning," He informed, rambling on in his nervousness.

     "I think piano is a fine talent to have. Are you as good as I assume you'd be after so many years of practice?" She asked, and I piped into the conversation.

     "He's very good, mum. He's incredibly talented," I offered, knowing that Zayn wouldn't give himself the credit he deserved.

     "I'd say I'm mediocre at best," He countered. It killed me to hear him sell himself short. "There are plenty of pianists who could do better."

     "Zayn Malik, I will not sit here and listen to you belittle your abilities," His aunt defended, and Zayn looked down at his plate of food, avoiding all eye contact. "He's an amazing pianist. I hear him play almost every day, sometimes in the middle of the night, and the melodies he's strewn together are out of this world. He learned in a week what I learned in a little over a month."

     "Well, Zayn, everyone else says you're simply fantastic. And there's no shame in admitting you're good at something," My mum encouraged, and Zayn nodded, still not making any eye contact.

    "Hey," My mum called, and he finally looked up to meet her eyes. "When I as your age, I was in orchestra. I played the cello, but I was terrible at it. You should've seen the strings on that poor, tortured instrument," She joked, and I knew Zayn appreciated the lightened mood.

     "Is it something you'd want to do in life? Music?" She questioned, and he looked over at his aunt as he answered.

     "Yes. I'm just not quite sure how to get anywhere," He replied, looking over to me at that moment. He knew I wanted to persue music as well, but he didn't know what I knew. He had no clue that Rosewood would now be a possibility for the both of us.

    "Liam wants the same. And let me tell you this, if it's absolutely your dream, then never quit fighting for it," My mum said, looking at both Zayn and I.

   "Amen!" Colette sang out, raising her glass of water in a toast.

   I found myself smiling as my mum gave Zayn a pat on the back, glad that there were no true tensions built up. We've all come so far, and I was hoping for the best in each individual relationship.

    The rest of dinner was calm, and we even had a few laughs altogether as Colette told some story about Zayn when he was younger, much to his torment. Still, I could tell he enjoyed the way we all felt complete and together in the moment. Almost like an actual family.

     And I realized that it was the first time I felt at home in my own house.


	51. Luminous

"You told Louis?" I asked Zayn, leaning my head back against his shoulder. The dinner was finished a few hours ago, and I got permission to spend the night at Zayn's house, but that permission didn't come without a comment from my mum about how much time I spend away from home. I, of course, promised to make it up to her.

We were sitting on his bed, and I was in his lap between his legs, my back resting against his chest as his arms wrapped around my waist. His window was currently opened, and the view of the moon rising in the night sky was captivating. 

I always preferred the moon to the sun because the moonlight was private. The sun was like a picture being shown in plain sight for everyone to see. It was like a painting hung on the wall of a museum, known to all who saw it. The moonlight, however, was like the spotlight on a stage. It gave attention to a piece of work, displaying true depth and emotion behind it. It was the lonely bulb in an artist's run down studio; dim, yet giving way to a passion that couldn't do without. And when the moon was gone, it was like a secret being whispered. It was there, but it was hidden.

"Yes. Figured I might as well," Zayn replied. His voice was quiet, almost like a soft lullaby to put a child to sleep. It wasn't frantic. Never like it use to be when his past was mentioned. There was something else to it, but I couldn't focus on it as his hand trailed lightly up my arm, causing goosebumps to form on the surface of my skin.

"What made you reach that conclusion?" I asked back, trying to distract myself from the sensation that rode through me at the slightest touch.

"Well, he's my best friend. He deserved to know," He began, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck, and I couldn't suppress the shiver that shook my body. "And I decided that keeping it all hidden was the one thing that was eating at me the most. There was a part of me still denying what happened, and if I keep pretending like it never happened, then he wins. I can't let him win. If he wins, I lose more than just that battle."

I didn't say a word, wondering what he could mean by that, but I think I understood. If he allows himself to surrender to every word and action his dad forced onto him, then he allows all of the potential happiness in his life to drain away. He'd deny himself every pleasure he desired. He'd deny himself the truth to who he was.

I felt his mouth gently press to the skin of my neck, and I bit my lip as he began to trail kisses down the expanse of bare skin, doing my best to conceal the moans that threatened to slip out like criminals from the scene of a crime.

"I lose this," He explained anyway, biting loosely on my ear, his hand dropping from my waist to my hand, encompassing it in his. "And I can't lose you. Not again," He breathed out.

I broke from his hold, turning around to face him, and the fearful look upon his face from the sudden separation proved that I was his chain. I wanted to pull him out of the dark and into the light, but I had to do it without hurting his eyes in the brightness.

I climbed onto his legs, moving closer until I was straddling his waist, the beating in my heart becoming wild as my mind drifted to the possibilities my actions could lead too. All of them seemed too much, yet not enough.

"You won't," I assured, staring him right in the eyes. Not a single part of our bodies were touching except for our bottom halves. My hands stayed hesitant to touch him, lingering in the empty space between us as his laid on the sheets of his bed.

I watched as he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple moving along his throat and his jaw tightening as he clenched it, as if he was holding himself back. Our eyes held contact with one another's, waiting for one of us to make a move, for one of us to determine what it was we were doing.

Finally, I let my eyes drop to his chest, my hand shakily moving toward it to lay on it. The heat of his body, even through his clothes, burned like a flame. I felt his heart pounding underneath my palm, and it almost felt like I was holding it in my hand.

I closed my eyes, feeling how it would beat and noticing that it was almost a perfect match with the way mine was throbbing. And I thought of something beautiful-- a piano melody based on the complementary beats of our hearts.

I didn't register the sound of my gasp until a few seconds after it escaped my lips, the sudden thought causing my skin to tingle. I opened my eyes to meet Zayn's, slowly moving them from where my hand lay on his chest up to his eyes. And there was a sweet type of pain within them. The pain of love.

We stayed still, a staring contest going on between us. I could hear the heavy breathing between us, both of us getting caught up in the other without even moving a muscle. It was like a rubber band being stretched to its limits, the tension building up higher and higher until suddenly... it snapped.

Our lips met in the middle, a tangled mess of need, want, love, and lust. I felt a burning in my gut that screamed out desire, and my hands suddenly dug into the fabric of Zayn's shirt; I was desperate for stability in the animalistic craving I was feeling.

Zayn's hands found my waist, gently pushing up the ends of my shirt so that his thumbs could rub into my skin, holding me tightly and most likely leaving small bruises in the wake of his vice-like grip.

Slowly, our kiss drifted away from desperation, falling into a lazy mesh of love and adoration. I felt Zayn pull me in closer, and I didn't resist. It was as if my body was completely pliant as a piece of driftwood floating on soft waves of the sea. And Zayn was the current pulling me in.

I shivered as cold air blew through the opened window, and we broke apart. I bit my lip as I opened my eyes, our foreheads were pressed together, but I noticed that Zayn's eyes were closed and a calming smile was on his lips.

"We should probably close the window," I noted quietly, feeling Zayn nod, but neither of us made to move closer to the window. We stayed in the exact same spot, and I was too comfortable to move.

The window was forgotten again as our lips met once more, moving together in a familiar rhythm that was exhilarating. I knew that I would never get tired of feeling Zayn's lips on mine. I would never get tired of how they felt so soft against my own, which were probably chapped from how often I bit them. I would never get tired of the small spark that seemed to roam my body along with his hands. I would never get tired of the way it seemed that we were both breathing life into one another, eventhough there tended to be a lack of oxygen.

Zayn's hands traveled to the bottom of my shirt again, and I felt his lips leave mine in favor of trailing across my jaw, latching on to a sweet spot directly behind it. I couldn't stop the moan that errupted from my lips this time, but I didn't even want to anymore.

"May I?" He asked politely, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. His voice seemed breathless, thick, and lovely, but it only held a respectful tone.

"Yes. Please," I replied, my lips meeting his again, a sort of physical verification of my response. He pulled up my shirt slowly, and I felt the rush of cold air hit my exposed skin. I lifted my arms, breaking the kiss to allow the shirt to be fully discarded.

Zayn's hands wrapped around my waist before lifting to follow the trail of my spine down my back, covering me with his warmth. He moved his hands slowly, taking his time to just touch, and I closed my eyes, breathing heavily through my nose as I just received.

"You're so beautiful, princess. So damn beautiful," He whispered, placing a kiss right over my heart, and I swallowed thickly as another shiver racked by body.

"Yours, too," I pleaded, wanting to admire his skin as well. He nodded once before removing his shirt as well, throwing it onto the floor where mine was carelessly tossed a moment ago. 

Zayn's body was perfection. His skin tone was a few shades darker than mine; his body was thin, toned, and sharp; his skin held no scars or faded bruising; there were no signs of battle wounds on his chest or stomach. I felt hideous compared to him, but I knew he didn't realize how perfect he was.

My hand reached out, resting directly over his heart again, and the way it beat was more wild than before. It was erratic-- a harsh thumping against his chest as if it would spring out at any moment. I knew mine was the same.

"Are you still afraid of this?" I asked as I moved my hand, trailing my fingers over his chest and down his stomach. He was such a sight to see, and I appreciated every single part of him he decided to show me; physical and mental.

"Not like I use to be," He answered on a shaky breath out, but it was my breath that caught in my throat as his hand rested on my stomach, his pointer finger tracing over a scar by my hip bone. "I'm more afraid of fucking this up."

The pad of his thumb rubbed circles onto my waist, and I felt tingly all over. He was so close to such a sensitive area, and all I could think about was how much I loved the man in front of me, and I loved the place we were in at the moment; not just our physical position.

"You won't. We're in a better place. We're surviving," I reminded. Sure, we were both broken and battered little things, but we were gaining strength-- mainly from one another. We were learning to forgive and continue.

Zayn's fingers finally reached my pants button, and we both paused. His eyes looked up to mine, and I understood the question he held there. I nodded my head, and I felt his fingers begin to undo my zipper and button at the same time.

Suddenly, we were shifting postions as Zayn turned us over, laying me down on the bed as he slowly worked my pants down my legs, leaving kisses as he went. Nothing about his actions were desperate or rough; they were slow and delicate.

Zayn finally removed my pants from my legs and moved away to throw them off of the bed, going to close the window while he was at it. He made his way back over to me, his eyes meeting mine and keeping the contact as his hand trailed over the skin of my thigh, meeting the end of my boxers, and my memory decided to wonder to the last time we were in this position.

I remembered the feeling of Zayn's lips wrapped around me, and my body began to feel as if it was overheating, and the spot where his hand lay on my skin was like a searing flame pressed there. I found myself craving that same feeling, but I had something else in mind just as I felt Zayn's hands begin to linger underneath my boxers, feeling the smooth skin there.

"Z-Zayn," I managed to speak, breathing out of my nose deeply as he looked up from my thighs to look at me. His eyebrow rose in wonder, and I continued. "I want to try something. Only if you want it, too, though," I announced.

His hands moved up to me cheeks as his thumbs gently caressed my cheekbones, deep in his own thoughts. His eyes seemed distant, and I knew he was contemplating my request, but it frightened me that it was taking so long.

"We don't have to...." I trailed off, not wanting to push him to do anything, and I also didn't want to disappoint him if he expected something else.

"No, it's okay. We can try whatever you want to try," He assured, pressing a kiss to my lips. "I was just thinking about how you use to always hold back. You were always so afraid to even receive pleasure, and now you're wanting to try things. It makes me feel like you trust me, and I value that trust more than anything."

He said it so sincerely, and I knew he was being honest. And I did trust him. I trusted Zayn more than anyone I've ever met before. Because he only wanted the best for me, and he constantly assured me that things would be okay. And as strange as it would seem, he was the only person who truly made me feel okay.

"What did you want to try?" He asked, grabbing a hold of my hand and kissing the back of it tenderly. I smiled at the small act of affection, but I became nervous as I considered the possible reaction from Zayn after telling him what I wanted to say.

"Remember what you did for me last time?" I questioned, and Zayn nodded. "I want to try it... but for you," I finally confessed, and worry instantly filled Zayn's features.

His hands instantly left my own, and he moved away from me. He sat back onto the bed, looking down at his sheets woth furrowed brows and a distant look. I scrambled to sit up as well, feeling him shiver as I touched his arm.

"N-no, I... I can't. You won't... the damage is... you won't like what you'll see," He muttered, and I knew what he was referring to. His scars.

I've never seen Zayn completely naked. He's always covered up his hips and thighs. He never exposed the skin that held all of his torment from the past. I've never seen the way he's truly hurt himself, and a part of me never wanted to, but another part of me - a bigger part of me - needed to face this fear and show Zayn that he was so much more than his past. He was so much more than the shame each and every scar held. He was so much more than the used and defiled waste he saw himself as. He was beautiful, stunning, and a work of art. He was the only person I've ever felt so connected to. He was my world, no matter how scratched and flawed it was.

"Zayn, stop that," I demanded, cupping his face in my hands and making him look at me. I saw agony in his eyes, and it cut me to the core.

"I'm done pretending that it never happened. It did," He whispered, but I could still hear the way the words strained his voice. Deep emotions were surging through him, but I wanted to appease them and every toxic thought he had of himself.

"He used me, and I ruined me." He smiled slightly, but the smile held no joy, only pain and self-hatred. "And I never, ever want you to see me that way. I never want you to see just how weak, reckless, and foolish I was. I don't want you to see it because you'll realize that... I'm not worthy of all of your love. I wasn't even worthy enough to love myself," He whispered, closing his eyes at his statement. It couldn't have been farther from what I was thinking.

"Zayn," I pressed, drawing him back to me, "you're so much more than what you see yourself as. I mean, you're so brave and strong and clever. You're absolutely beautiful to me, and I love you. I love you after every single damn thing we've been through. And I'm not leaving you again." I made sure to make that clear to him.

"I felt the same way. I saw myself as a waste of space, time, and breath because of my father. I still feel that way, but you make me feel like I'm worth more than gold. You make me feel loved, and you make me feel as close to perfect as is possible. I don't see myself the way you see me, and it goes both ways. I want to make you feel just as alive as you make me feel. Just as worthy, just as perfect, and just as loved. Because you deserve it. And when I say I love you, I mean that I love every single part of you. Even the worse parts," I said, looking into his eyes for some type of understanding, but he still seemed hesitant.

I laid my forehead against his and spoke calmly and honestly. "We don't have to. I don't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just as you don't want to do anything that makes me feel the same. We don't have to do anything, but I just want you to know that those scars do not define you. Sure, they made you who you are today, but they are only a memory, a reminiscence of who you were."

We sat in silence, and I found myself solely enjoying the heat that radiated off of Zayn's body due to how close we truly were. And I didn't care if we just laid there the rest of the night, simply staring into each other's eyes or just breathing in each other's air. I didn't care about anything but how close I felt to Zayn.

"We can try it," He suddenly decided, and I instantly became nervous, knowing that I had no idea how to even do what I was putting myself up to do. I just wanted to assure Zayn that no matter what, he was beautiful to me as well.

I nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips, and we switched positions. Zayn laid back on the bed while I positioned myself over him, my hands laying on top of his stomach. It was my turn to hesitate now, feeling the pressure and intimidation of pleasing him.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Liam? You don't have to," Zayn announced. I closed my eyes as he lifted himself up on his elbows for a second, his hand moving to cup my cheek, and I nodded.

"Y-yeah. I do want to, I just," my shoulder fell in my embarrassment, "I don't know how, and I'm worried that it might be bad," I admitted under my breath, but Zayn heard every word in the silent room.

"Princess, nothing you do could ever be bad. I'll love it because it's you. And... I honestly had no clue what I was doing either," He confessed, and my mouth fell open in shock at that, making him chuckle. It was sort of strange how we were acting as if this was a normal conversation.

"But you... I mean, I enjoyed it," I bashfully announced, looking down at where my fingers played with Zayn's zipper, and I felt his hand squeeze my forearm. I looked up at his face to see his eyes watching my hand, swallowing in some sort of desire.

"Yeah? Well, I sort of looked stuff up to learn, and I practiced. With, like, fruit and stuff," He said, making me smile wider than I think I ever have before.

"Stuff?" I questioned, and I watched in amazement as Zayn's face began to redden.

"I may have, um, invested my money into buying certain entertainment items for adults," He said, and I couldn't contain my laughter.

"Sex toys, Zayn. They have a name," I said between laughs, seeing Zayn smile up at me.

"Yeah, well, I don't have 'em anymore. It was sort of a once and done thing. And my aunt may have been curious as to how my allowance was spent so quickly," He muttered, and I couldn't help but find it slightly endearing how he actually practiced for me.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, feeling him instantly kiss me back with eager, yet passionate, lips. And the little giggles that were escaping my lips came to a sudden hault as Zayn managed to slip his tongue into my mouth.

I let out a small moan, and I felt the way Zayn's body reacted to it, his hands gripping my hips tighter and holding me closer. I broke the kiss and decided I had to be brave as well.

"Such a shame you threw 'em all out," I whispered in his ear, feeling a sense of confidence as I heard Zayn's breath hitch at my words.

I moved down to where my face was directly over the buldge in his pants, and I unbuttoned them before slowly bringing down the zipper. I did my best to keep a steady hand, but I could feel myself shaking. I only hoped Zayn couldn't feel it as well.

My hands reached up to pull down his jeans, but Zayn's hands stopped my own. I looked up at him, and I saw the fear in his eyes. "It's not pretty," He reminded, and I nodded, pressing a kiss to his hand before he let go of my own, laying back and taking a deep breath.

I readied my hands again, gripping around the waist of his pants, and I took a deep breath. I pulled his pants down his legs, and I swallowed thickly as soon as I saw the first few scars on his lower thighs. They seemed deeper and larger than the small faint lines on his arms. These were actually noticeable, and the scars spread all the way down his legs.

I completely removed Zayn's pants, and I took a deep breath as I prepared to do the same with his boxers. I knew the scars on his upper thighs and his hips would be worse. I knew that he repeatedly carved the word "sin" into his skin, and I had no clue how I would react upon seeing it, but I wanted to do this. I needed to.

I removed his boxers, my eyes following the material all the ay down his legs before I discarded them to the side. I closed my eyes, preparing myself for all of the pain and sorrow that would fill me as soon as I looked at the marks.

I opened my eyes, and my heart stopped at how damaged Zayn once was. It as written all over his skin. Every single cut told a story, and I hated how they represented so much loss, rage, and confusion. I hated how the word "sin" was deeper than all of the rest. The words were harshly carved, clearly in an emotional rush. The letters were jagged and angry. They almost looked like they were still red with blood.

"I almost did it on my arm, but everyone would have seen it there," Zayn spoke, and I reached out my hand, running my fingers over the word as if I could cross it out or erase it with the gentle touches. And a massive part of me wanted to.

I felt tears build in my eyes, and I found myself kissing one of the many scars before moving on to another on his hips. I felt Zayn's breathing become heavy and erratic, and I heard a sob break free from his throat as I continued to kiss each and every scar as I moved down his legs. I wanted to replace them. I wanted to heal the abused skin with love. But I knew I couldn't.

"You're not a sin, Zayn. You're not," I voiced, a wave of emotions hitting me as I realized just how much he mattered to me; just how much he never mattered to himself. "You're absolutely beautiful. You're lovely. You're worth so much. I love you so much," I croaked out, looking back up at Zayn, and our eyes locked.

Tears were pouring down his cheeks, more tears than I've ever seen, but he didn't look upset. His eyes held so much appreciation, and I knew my words meant a lot to him. I wanted him to know that I meant them.

"I love you, Zayn Malik," I repeated, climbing over him until our lips were meeting, and the kiss was sloppy in our emotional rush, but I didn't mind. I just wanted to pour all of my love into it and make sure Zayn knew just how special he was.

"I love you, Liam," Zayn whispered as we broke apart, and I pecked his lips once more before moving to press kisses down his jaw. I tried to mimick the way he would press kisses to my body, and I didn't know if I was succeeding, but the way a moan escaped from Zayn's throat gave me confidence.

I kissed all the way down his body, stopping above the word carved onto his hip. Finally, I kissed over the word before moving my lips closer and closer to Zayn's hardening member.

"Liam, you don't have to-" He began to say, panting in need as his fingers found their way into my hair to hold me close.

"Want to," I mumbled out against his warm skin, and I finally trailed kisses all the way up his length. My mind was reeling in my own doubt, but I forced myself not to listen to any of it as I reached the tip, running my tongue over the head once.

Zayn let out a small cry, and I felt his hands tug at my hair. There was a small tension in my scalp at the tug, but I didn't mind it. I found myself only paying attention to the sounds pouring quietly out of Zayn's mouth. I was constantly craving more.

I licked at the slit of Zayn's dick before finally taking a bit of him into my mouth. The feeling was a bit awkward, but my nerves were eased as I heard Zayn speak up, voice sounding completely wrecked.

"You're doing great. Wonderful, princess. Fuck, Liam," I heard Zayn praise, and I enjoyed the encouragement.

I closed my eyes and fit as much of Zayn as I could in my mouth, barely even able to fit half of his length in my mouth. I was nervous about not meeting up to his expectations, especially because he made it so good for me, but I didn't have to spend too much time thinking about it due to Zayn's constant stream of encouragement.

"Just like that, love. You're doing amazing, Liam. You're so good. Your mouth is so good," He moaned out, and I felt the way his fingers twitched inside of my hair, as if he was resisting the urge to completely take control, and something about that edged me on even more.

   I pushed myself to take more into my mouth, but I gagged as soon as I felt him hit the back of my throat, making me pull away and cough a couple of times.

    "Hey, hey," Zayn said in a concerned voice, sitting up and cupping my face in his hands. "Are you alright, Liam?" He asked, and I felt myself heating up in embarrassment.

    "I'm sorry," I muttered out, not wanting to look into his eyes. I didn't want him to be disappointed, and I didn't want to see him laugh at me either.

    "You've nothing to be sorry for, baby," He consoled me, pressing a quick peck to my cheek. "You did so well. I've never felt anything like that, love. Thank you."

    I looked up, finally meeting his eyes, and my sudden rush of fear became extinct as I saw the truth in his eyes. He truly didn't care that I was so unexperienced. There was no disappointment or teasing. He was completely honest.

    "I wanted to do better. I wanted to make you feel as good as you made me feel," I confessed, and he gave a small, loving smile.

   "You did. You do. You always do. I swear it," He said, and one of his hands dropped to my boxers that were still covering my body. It was the only layer between us, and I let out breathless gasps as his fingers found the hem. We've never both been completely naked, and I had to admit that it was an intimidating thought.

    "May I?" He asked, always doing his best to be polite and respectful.

    I nodded, feeling his fingers skim over the sensitive skin underneath. "Please," I muttered.

    Then we were kissing, our lips moving along that familiar path, and I didn't feel so nervous when my boxers were finally removed. Zayn's hands travelled down my body, making me shudder under his soft and delicate fingertips. I found my hands doing the same, but I froze and moaned deeply as his hand wrapped around my member, slowly pumping me. My head fell to his shoulder, hiding my face in his neck as sounds leaked from me mouth.

    "Want me to take care of you, princess?" Zayn asked, and I could only nod, too lost in the wondrous feeling his hand was offering.

    Zayn laid me down underneath him, and everything came to a halt for a second. Zayn's eyes stared into mine with so much love, and it complemented the way his hand gently held onto my waist. He was treating me like I was fragile, but not like I was weak. His touch was soft yet firm. A perfect medium.

    "I love you, Liam," He spoke, and I couldn't help but throw my head back as Zayn grinded his member against my own. The feeling was a rush of pure ecstasy and intoxication. It was my own high. Skin on skin for the very first time, and it was hard to contain myself.

    My hands met Zayn's back, and I found my nails digging into his back, but he didn't seem to mind. He held perfect eye contact, but it was too much for me. It was so intimate, eventhough we weren't experiencing the real deal. And I had a sudden realization that maybe it wouldn't be so scary to go all the way with Zayn. Maybe it would feel just like this, just like falling with no limit, just like flying without a breathless pressure. Natural and safe.

     "Zayn, I..." I trailed off, swallowing between my gasps for air. "I want you to fuck me," I voiced, shocked by my own words, but Zayn seemed to be as well.

    He came first, releasing all over the both of us, and I followed suit, feeling Zayn press calming kisses to my face as I came down from my high. Zayn picked up a random piece of clothing from the floor- his shirt- and cleaned us both off thoroughly. Then, we laid beside each other in silence.

    It was a silence that held so much promise, so much trust, and so much love. Like the air was Cupid's breath, and all we were doing was breathing in the sweet aroma.

    "You're not a sin, Zayn," I declared, my voice sounding tired even to my own ears. "You're so much more than you know."

    I rested my head on one of Zayn's pillows, and felt him kiss my temple. "Thank you. I love you, Liam. Get some sleep, darling," He whispered, his voice low and coaxing.

   I nodded, feeling him hold me close, and I felt him kiss my forehead once more before I finally fell asleep, knowing that this was where I was meant to be.

    With Zayn, feeling loved, and feeling happy and safe for the first time in so long. And maybe this was the start of building up instead of breaking down.

   And even if the past still wrapped around our ankles, trying to pull us back, there was a shedding of light in the darkness that kept us moving forward.


	52. Chance

"So, what did Louis have to say yesterday?" My mum asked as she sat beside me on the couch. She placed a popcorn bowl between us and set down two glasses full of ice and a bottle of soda on the coffee table. After I came home this morning, she was pretty adamant on having movie time together. It was something we use to always do together a few years ago, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it.

Besides, I did feel a bit of the embarrassment this morning after what I blurted out last night. Zayn, however, didn't dwell on it or even bring it up, and I was thankful for that. It wasn't a lie, but it was too much for me to think about at that moment.

"He wanted to talk to me about Rosewood. It's a performing arts school, and he thinks I should audition for entry in their scholarship contest," I said, wanting to brush past the subject because I still wasn't confident in any of it. 

When I told Zayn that morning, he said that it was an incredible offer and that he would try for a spot as long as I tried as well. I, of course, agreed. It wasn't like music was something I didn't want to do, it was only that I knew there were so many other talented people who were going to audition. Maybe I was talented as well, but I didn't compare to a lot of people.

"Liam, that's fantastic!" My mum shouted while grabbing a handful of popcorn. I was relieved that there wasn't any butter poured over the popcorn, but I would have felt even better if my mum didn't drown it in salt.

"It is, but I don't know if I should do it," I admitted, making my mum raise an eyebrow at me, waiting until she swallowed her popcorn before speaking.

"And why is that?" She asked, moving to twist the cap off of the soda and pour some into her glass.

"They only pick five people. Five people out of the fifty who audition. So, I'm thinking that I shouldn't waste my time. I know there are very talented people out there. Zayn might get in, but I don't think I will," I admitted, looking at the TV screen that was going through movie trailers.

"So you're quitting before even starting? I have to agree with you there," My mum said without hesitation. She looked at me with a blank expression, but before I could register how much it hurt to have her see it the same way, she was speaking again.

"I'm joking, Liam. That is the worse thing you could ever do to yourself," She expressed. She set down her glass and smiled at me. "Liam, music has always been so important to you. You told me from a very young age that it was something you wanted to pursue. You'd only be letting yourself down if you didn't take this opportunity."

"That's what Louis told me. I guess I'm just scared of not being enough," I confessed, and I actually found myself thankful that my mum and I were able to have these kinds of conversations again. I use to be able to tell her anything, and I had that back now.

"Everybody feels that way at times. Everybody has that fear that they'll never be able to compare to the other people around them, but that doesn't mean you just give up. You can't give up," She said, and I enjoyed how she finally sounded like my mum again. "Especially not now. Liam, your voice is lovely, and I'm not just saying it because I'm your mum. I'm saying it because it's the truth."

She rested her hand on my shoulder as she reassured me. "And it's more than just your voice. There's actual passion in every single thing you do, and I know that passion is enough to drive you and get you far. But you cannot give up. Quitters have no substance, like a vacuum," She said, and something about her last statement made me laugh.

"Look, it's a simple question. Do you want to sing and make music?" She asked, and I actually took a moment to think about it.

There were many people in the music industry, and it is known as one of the hardest industries to make your mark in, but there was nothing else I was truly interested in. Since I got my very first album and wrote my very first song, I've devoted so much of my time to music. Some people say fame is terrible-- it removes a person from their morals and corrupts their lives, but I guess it just depended on how grounded and true to yourself you stay. And I had people around me that would maintain my true self. I'm not saying I'd even become famous, but it was comforting to know that I could have a stable run. And I knew my answer.

"Yes. There's nothing I'd rather do," I replied. It was the truth. All I wanted was to create something others could listen to and connect with. I wanted to express the piece of me that was left scattered in the pages of my journal. I wanted to do music.

"Then you go for it. And if you don't make it this time around, you keep going. You push away all ideas of stopping, you control your future, and you run over every obstacle in the way. If it's what you really want, you go and get it. Everyone around you will support you," She said, looking me straight in the eyes and speaking in a calm and confident voice.

I took everything in. I knew she was right. I had to stop being afraid of what I wanted, and I had to go for it. I had to be courageous for myself. I had to take control of where I wanted my life to go.

"Thanks, mum," I said with a smile. She smiled back at me and nodded, leaning over to grab her drink and take a sip of it. I felt okay about myself in that moment, so I grabbed a handful of popcorn, thinking about all of the amazing people I now had behind me that showed me care and love, and I didn't hesitate to eat it.

"What are we watching again?" I asked, my mouth full of the salty popcorn. My mum chuckled at me before leaning back on the couch, watching as I finally poured myself a glass of soda, filling my cup up halfway only.

"The Jungle Book. It's a remake. Figured since you loved it so much as a kid that we might as well check this one out. And don't you dare say you're too old for it. There's no such thing," She said, throwing some more popcorn into her mouth, and I laughed.

"Clearly there isn't. I mean, you're still watching it," I commented in a teasing tone. She threw some popcorn at me, making me laugh as she gave me a warning glare. This was how our relationship use to be. Mother and son, natural, joking, and just relaxing. My mum was the closest person to me, and I was so glad to have this back.

I relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the way this now felt like a home. There were no underlying tensions anymore, there were no secrets being kept, and there was nothing to fear around every corner.

I think this is what it felt like to be free.  
\------------------------------------------------------

"I need to speak with you two," Mrs. Michaelson said to Zayn and I while everyone else filed out of class, making their way to the lunch room. I looked at Zayn with worry, but he shook his head and held my hand as we made our way to her desk.

We approached her desk as the last student stepped out of the classroom- Drew- and he only left after I assured him that things were okay. I assumed she wanted to speak to us about the little scene that happened in the cafeteria last week. All I knew was that Kyle was apparently suspended.

"You wanted to speak to us," Zayn spoke first. I didn't even know if I could bring myself to speak. I've never been in actual trouble at school before, at least not with an adult, but it was very intimidating.

"Yes," Mrs. Michaelson said, setting down some papers and giving the two of us her full attention. "First thing's first, I'm sure you're aware of Kyle's suspension after the fight in the cafeteria. It was a very unsettling situation, and he believed he had his reasons," She said in a tone I couldn't identify, and I knew that she knew. She must know.

"What did he say it was about?" I managed to mutter, hoping that she wouldn't be another homophobic person.

"Well, after his lies failed him, he finally admitted to me that he didn't like the fact that you, Liam, manipulated Zayn. He said you were dating, and he said that it never should have happened. He was outraged, to say the least," She informed, and I squeezed Zayn's hand tighter as she spoke.

Her eyes dropped to where our hands were intertwined, and she smiled softly at me. It was that same reassuring smile that she gave me in the cafeteria, making me question whether she knew before the incident even happened.

"I do not agree with Mr. Anderson's reasons for fighting. Honestly, I think it was disgusting and undignified. Homophobia is ridiculous. It stems from ignorance, I assume. People are either taught that loving the same sex is wrong, or they are gullible enough to believe that someone who's gay automatically has an interest in every male. I know that both statements are incorrect," She said. She turned around one of her pictures on her desk. It was two men, probably early twenties, with their arms over each other's shoulders, smiling as wide as possible at the camera.

"That's my son," She announced, pointing to the man on the left. Her finger then drifted over to point at the other guy. "And that's his husband of two years. They're very happy together. In fact, they're looking into adoption right now, and I'm looking forward to being a grandma," Mrs. Michaelson smiled fondly at the picture before turning it back around and looking back at us.

"I'm very proud of the two of you for embracing who you are," She admitted, and I didn't feel so afraid of this discussion anymore.

"Thank you. I'm proud of us, too," I said, squeezing Zayn's hand once again and smiling at him. He gave me a thankful smile back, and I have never felt so proud. It felt like we were making it. Everything seemed to be pointing up for the both of us at the moment.

"That's not all that I wanted to talk about, though. I've been notified by Rosewood that the two of you have been invited to audition for scholarships, which is a huge deal by the way! This almost never happens, and it has never happened to someone in my class before, let alone two people, so congratulations," She offered, and Zayn thanked her in reply.

"I just wanted you both to know that you're going to be fine. You have some of the best voices in the class, so that's a fantastic start. Liam, your song writing skills are wonderful and Zayn, I have never heard anyone play piano as passionately as you. It's breathtaking," She complimented, and I had to agree with her on Zayn. He was just a natural.

"I am going to be writing you small recommendation letters for you to turn in during your audition. It'll help out in the long run and half of the others will have recommendation letters from higher and more well-known music instructors, but if I had to bet money on at least two people to get the positions, it'd be the two of you. I'm very proud, boys," She finished, and we both said our appreciations before she dismissed us out of the room.

"We're actually doing this," I voiced, still feeling a bit afraid of auditioning, but everyone else seemed to think it was a good idea. Also, I believed that Zayn could make it, and he would only audition if I did.

"Yeah, we are. Together," Zayn said softly, looking at me with a stunning smile. It was hard not to blush after what we both knew from a couple nights ago. I was in love with Zayn, and I knew now that I wanted him to be my first. It was a big step, but I was ready for it now that we've shared so much together and have been through a lot together. It was all together.

"I hope it works out," I commented, and we stopped walking once we were in front of the cafeteria doors. Zayn turned to me, and I looked up at him, seeing that he was calm, so calm about it all on the exterior, but there was worry inside of his eyes.

"I do, too. I just want to be able to get away from all of this," He said, waving a hand in the air. "I think you'll get in. I really do, and even if you do and I don't, I'll be happy because you'll be safe over there," He admitted, and it warmed my heart that he always put me first. Still, Zayn needed to know what I thought of him.

"You'll get in," I said, nodding my head, "Mrs. Michaelson was right. Your playing is out of this world. There's so much emotion poured into every note. It's raw yet elegant. They'd have to be insane to not give you a scholarship," I assured, seeing Zayn smile, and then he was leaning in, pressing a kiss to my lips.

My head still couldn't wrap around the whole idea of being together in public. It was such a rush to know that we weren't hiding behind a lie anymore. The fear that both of us felt was no longer relevant. Sure, there were plenty of people who gave us hell for being who we were, but it felt great to be able to push aside the curtain and finally step onto the stage. We were no longer backstage or behind closed doors.

     We broke apart, and Zayn held my hand as we walked into the lunch room, going through the line, grabbing whatever food I figured I could stand, before finally sitting with Louis and Drew.

    "What happened?" Drew immediately asked, looking between Zayn and I for an answer.

    "Nothing," Zayn said bluntly. He still didn't trusy Drew completely, but I think it ran more into a certain kind of hatred Zayn had for his own reasons. He would tolerate him, but I doubted that he would ever let him in.

    "Mrs. Michaelson just wanted to talk to us about Kyle's suspension. She also said that she was going to write us recommendation letters for Rosewood," I said, seeing Louis' eyes widen in amazement.

    "That'd be great! Harry says that some kids are already turning in recommendation letters and their first recorded audition. When are you two planning to record yours?" He asked.

    It was intimidating to know that we had a whole week before first auditions were due, yet so many people were already submitting their work. I didn't even have a song ready for recording. I looked over at Zayn, and it was obvious that he was thinking the same thing. We would have to get serious about this quickly.

    "Um... I don't know. I didn't expect people to submit so early," I confessed, and Louis nodded, not fazed in the slightest.

    "Yeah, people get pretty serious about this. It's very competitive, but I don't think either of you should be worried. You'll do great, but I would start thinking about a song to submit," He suggested, and I looked down at my tray of food, wondering what I could possibly write about. There were so many things going on in my life, but nothing seemed good enough. It was good enough for me, but was it good enough for that school?

    "Louis, do you think I could ask Niall for help on this?" I asked, and Zayn immediately spoke up.

    "Why? Why can't Louis help you? Or me?" He questioned. I knew it was just jealousy, and maybe his defensive tendencies, that made him react so suddenly. Still, Niall knew we would never happen. He knew I loved Zayn.

     "He'd be great insight. He got into the school, and he's still there. I can't ask Harry for help because he's on the actual board, so Niall is the other option. You and Louis can be there if you want. He can help you, too," I reasoned. Zayn had to realize that Niall was our best option at the moment.

     "Fine," He said after a second of thought, "but we're doing it at my house." I could just hear Zayn thinking, "That way I can kick him out if he gets too irritating."

   "Alright, deal," I said, smiling innocently at him, and he gave me a playful glare. A big part of me enjoyed our playful moments while the other part was still surprised that we've reached the point where we can actually be playful instead of worrying about everything around us.

    "What about me?" Drew asked, putting a piece of his biscuit in his mouth while looking at all three of us.

    "What about you?" Zayn asked, and I elbowed him, making him clear his throat and try again. "Sorry. What do you mean?"

    "Aren't we friends? Or getting there?" He questioned, looking only between me and Louis. It was obvious Zayn didn't think highly of him. "Can't I join instead of being forced to spend another weekend where my mum wants me to help her scrapbook?" He almost begged, and Zayn snickered at his obvious displeasure.

     "I don't mind you joining, but it's Zayn's house. He gets the final call," I announced. Sure, we were dating, and Zayn would most likely do as I asked, but I didn't want to push him. His home was a place he finally felt safe and accepted, just like my home now was. I didn't want to force him to cross a line.

    I looked over at him, curious as to how he would rule, and he seemed to be deep in though. Drew had an obvious look of fear on his face, and it was nearly comical how afraid he truly was of Zayn now that he didn't act bad to cover it up.

    "You can come, but if you touch anything or say something to annoy me, you're leaving," Zayn said, and Drew nodded quickly.

     The conversation switched topics after that, and I zoned out a bit, only thinking about the fact that this was really happening. We were auditioning for a performing arts school.

     And even if I didn't make it in, the fact that I was given a chance meant the world to me.


	53. Ordeal

We were all gathered at Zayn's house after school the following day, and I was definitely feeling the pressure of choosing an audition piece. It had to be just right, and it had to both display my skills as a writer and singer as well as be something truthful to me.

"Do you have any idea what you want to write about? You need two audition songs. One for the recorded audition, and a second for when you audition in front of the board," Niall informed. We were all in the music room, and Zayn was sitting at the piano, looking through his song book and occasionally playing bits and pieces of a song.

"I don't know. There's just so much going through my mind right now. Most of it's panic, honestly," I confessed, seeing Niall smile slightly at that.

He sat next to me on the ground, and nodded. "Yeah, I remember going through that. It's like one chaotic war in your head. Two sides: one telling you that you should just give up while the other tells you to keep fighting. It's the worst, but it got me where I am today. You just have to take deep breaths and listen to your gut. Listen to whatever it tells you to go with," He said, and I nodded, deciding to try it.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall, taking deep breaths in and out, attempting to clear my mind of all of my building anxiety. I listened to the silence, but nothing helped until I heard Zayn playing a few more notes. Then that was all I thought about.

We were just like the piano. We were a mesh of black and white, good and bad, light and dark. We were major and minor keys, flats and sharps, bass clefs and treble clefs. Everything we were should have never been, but it worked out for some reason.

"How's it going?" I heard Drew ask, and I opened my eyes as Zayn sighed in frustration, saying something under his breath to Louis who was standing by the piano with him. I looked up to see Drew standing in front of Niall and I, looking a bit bored without anything to really do.

"I think I have a song idea," I announced, seeing his eyebrows lift in amazement. "How's Zayn doing?" I questioned, looking over to see that he was still flipping through his song book.

"He can't decide on a song. He's been through nearly twenty of them, and Louis and I are trying to tell him that they're all good and seem genuine, but he's not having it. He's pushing himself so hard," Drew noted, and I pouted as I looked back over to where Zayn and Louis were. More music was floating out of the piano, sounding soulful and deep, but Zayn sighed and shook his head as the music abruptly stopped, turning to another page.

"That one was great, Zayn. You didn't even give it a chance," Louis piped up. Zayn just shook his head as he read the notes on the page in front of him briefly before flipping to the next one.

"It wasn't enough, Louis. God, it feels like none of these are enough," He commented, sighing as he flipped to another page as I stood up from my spot on the floor, making my way toward Zayn.

"They're all great in their own way, Zayn. You're thinking about this too hard," Louis voiced, but Zayn either didn't hear him or chose not to respond because he played another bit of a song before stopping abruptly again, hands playing a harsh note on the piano keys. He sighed out in a frustrated huff.

"The bird song," I spoke up, making Louis turn to me in confusion as Zayn seemed to freeze in his spot. "Play that piece for your audition," I said, leaning against the piano and awaiting Zayn's reaction to my suggestion.

It was completely silent in the room, and I felt the awkwardness that was never usually there between Zayn and I. It wasn't the same now that others were present. I think we were so comfortable displaying our emotions to each other, but we had a difficult time putting them out for others to view as well.

I tried to focus solely on Zayn. I forced my mind to forget about Drew and Niall and Louis. I erased every other factor in the room besides Zayn. I could tell that the sudden pressure of the auditions was getting to him, and he needed support. He needed to know that it would be okay, but you still had to put it all on the line at the same time.

"I... I can't. It'd be too difficult," Zayn responded after what felt like an eternal silence.

"What's the bird song?" I heard Drew ask, and I noticed Zayn's fingers curl around the edges of the piano in a hazardous way, almost like he craved pain or to cause it. And I knew he never planned on sharing this piece of him with people he didn't exactly like not trust.

"It's the very first song I wrote when I was young. It was after one of the times my dad...." He trailed off, but the words didn't have to be spoken. We knew what he was talking about, but the knowledge of his suffering still sent a pang through my heart. "I'm not playing it for people," He declared.

"Why not? You played it for me," I reminded, moving to stand beside him, and he shook his head at my words.

"You're not everyone else, Liam," He responded quietly, and his words washed over me like an ocean wave, sending a feeling of warmth and care over me. "And I didn't write it for people to judge and pick apart. I didn't write it so people can determine whether I was good enough for a performing arts school," He said.

"I know," I comforted, making him turn to look at me. "You wrote it because it was an outlet for your pain. And that's why you should use it. It's raw and real. People need to hear that kind of music. Sharing your feelings is terrifying, Zayn, but it's the most beautiful part of music," I announced.

He looked down at the piano keys, almost attempting to ignore my words. It was as if he knew I was telling the truth, but he was trying to deny it. I grabbed his hand and continued.

"You have a story, Zayn. A story full of tragedy, pain, and strength. Your story is yours to keep, but music deserves to be shared. And there are others with a similar story. They need that outlet, too," I finished. I didn't want to push him to use the song, but I knew it deserved to be heard. The board would be impressed, and it sent such a strong message as well. It was meant for the world to hear.

Zayn nodded slowly at first before he agreed. "Alright. I'll do it. We can record it now if we need to. I think I can do it now," He got out. There was a tremor in his voice, showing how afraid he was to display his vulnerability, but I knew he could do it. He was stronger than he knew.

Louis nodded, walking over to his backpack and pulling out the camera he brought along with him. It was a regular video camera, but it was all we would really need. The acoustics in the room were great, and Zayn's passion would shine through under such a simple setting.

The four of us stood behind the camera as Louis pointed it at Zayn, waiting for him to take a few deep breaths before he nodded, looking at Louis to start. Starting the camera, he set it down on a shelf to keep a stable shot of Zayn, and we stood, listening to him play.

Each and every note seemed to bleed from him. It was like a knife cut him open, right through the heart, and he was crying out for any chance of survival. He was crippled and hopeless; a small bird caught in a storm. Lost and alone.

I closed my eyes as he poured out the notes, drinking in each one and feeling every ripple made throughout. I still pictured that bird, trying its best to protect itself, knowing its attempts to prevail were futile. Every gust threw him back, knocking him over and making him weak until he just... gave up.

He stopped flying, laying bruised and battered on the dirt. The storm finished, but the damage was done. The bird couldn't fly due to its injured wing and its broken spirit. It cried out for its mum to come and take care of it, but it's small cries were lost in the wind.

It got up, limping on a wounded leg while nursing its useless wing. The pain was immense, but the bird wanted its mum. It didn't want to lay down and die... at least not yet. Not until another storm came, one that would surely murder its will.

The notes were filled with a sense of hopelessness and dread. Each note was pounded into my heart, cutting apart every heartstring until it left a worthless tangled mess. As the notes slowly died down, I opened my eyes, looking at Zayn and seeing that his eyes were shut tight as he basically pushed himself to finish the song.

Tears were slowly falling down his face, and I noticed the way his hands were tembling slightly. He seemed to be slowly sinking in the quicksand of his past. Bit the song droned on gently, the bird coming to a halt, realizing it wouldn't make it far. It's fate was to stay and wait, alone, scared, and exposed- waiting for the next storm.

The final note hung in the air, a feeling of near emptiness accompanying it. Louis walked over to the camera, stopping it and smiling at Drew and Niall who seemed impressed as well, but my attention was on Zayn and how distraught he looked.

He wiped away his tears with shaky hands and sat motionless, staring at the keys with a blank expression.

"I think that was good enough. They'll definitely put you through to the next round of auditions," Niall commented, and Zayn slowly shook his head, his eyes racing over the keys of the piano.

"No," He voiced, and we all waited for him to continue speaking. "No, it wasn't good enough. Not nearly. I can do it again. Set the camera up, Louis," He ordered, fingers resting in the start position again.

Louis looked at all of us with a confused and hesitant expression. "Zayn, it was honestly flawless. And you clearly need to have a moment to breathe," He commented, making Zayn slam on the keys, sending a loud bang through the room and making us all jump in fright.

"It wasn't good enough. It has to be perfect. It has to be perfect. It has to be...." He trailed off, closing his eyes and brearging deeply. My heart ached as I saw his jaw clench, the tell-tale sign that he was holding back tears and an eruption of emotion. And my heart broke as a tear fell free.

"Guys, can we have a minute?" I requested, looking at Louis, Niall, and Drew. They all seemed concerned yet fearful. I understood completely, but I was no longer afraid of a distraught Zayn. It was a part of him, and I loved him regardless.

    They all nodded, and Louis led the way out of the room, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he went. Niall just seemed concerned, and Drew was very confused. I just gave them a reassuring smile as they walked out of the door, probably waiting out in the hallway.

     "It has to be enough," I heard Zayn speak up, and I frowned, knowing that he truly was beating himself up over this.

    I walked over to him and sat beside him on the piano bench. I rested my hand over his, removing it from the piano and holding it within the confines of both of mine.

   "Zayn, it was more than enough. You poured every ounce of your heart out in that performance. What makes you think it wasn't?" I questioned, speaking gently in the silent room.

     "Nothing I've ever done was good enough, Liam," He confessed, tightening the hold his hand had on mine. "I couldn't even get rid of my pain. I can't forget, no matter how hard I try, and I can't just move on. It's so fucking hard. And when I play this... it all comes back. Every single touch, all my useless cries for help, all of the self-inflicted wounds. And I hate myself all over again. I hate him."

    "No one said you had to forget. I don't think you can ever forget what happened in your past, but you can overcome it, and I think you're doing so well with that. You're trying, Z, and I'm not letting you do it alone," I said, seeing the way his tears fell more rapidly now.

    "Every single day, I wake up, wishing it was all a dream," He divulged, looking down at the piano keys again. "I take a shower and feel every cut on my body, feeling the way the skin will forever be ruined, and knowing that I can only blame myself. And everyday I fight the urge to make more," He said, letting out a sob, and I quickly wrapped him in my arms, holding him close. He was telling me things he's never told me before.

     "I look in the mirror, and I despise my reflection because there's nothing in my eyes. There's nothing at all, and I wonder why I'm still here or what I did to ever deserve to feel this way. I get dressed, I go to the kitchen and smile at my aunt, feeling so lucky that she's there for me, yet guilty that she has to provide for me and put up with all of my crap," He described, holding me just as tightly as I was holding him.

     "I eat breakfast and either go to school or go back to my room after. And I think about everything. I think about so many things, and I...." He trailed off, taking his time to breathe and attempting to calm himself down.

    "Then I think of you, and how infatuated I was after I first met you. You were small and adorable, but I was too much of a coward to tell you that. And now that I have you, I wonder why I even deserve you. You're so damn beautiful and brave, and your heart is the purest I think I've ever gotten to know. And I love you. I love you more than I loathe myself," He whispered, and his vulnerability has never been more obvious.

    "This song... my father stole everything away. I need to display that. I need people to understand. I- I want to scream it all in his face, but I couldn't even look him in the eyes anymore. This song is the only true payback I have, and I only pray that he knows how much hurt he's caused because I can never forget. I can never burn it away," He finished.

     I kissed the top of his head, feeling my heart pounding heavily at all of his sudden revelations. I knew the song meant a lot to him, but never would I have guessed the impact it truly had over him. And I never knew of his daily struggle to even like himself. I assumed he was making true progress, but he was only trying his best to be positive, hoping things would work out.

    "Zayn, you're hurting, and I never want to see you that way. I wish you would have told me sooner, or your aunt, because it's not healthy. It's not healthy at all, but I hope you know just how strong you are," I said, lifting his head up so that I could look into his eyes. They were stunning, and I could never get tired of gazing into them.

    "You gave up alcohol, and you haven't touched a drop in so long eventhough I can clearly see how much you want to. You haven't hurt yourself in so long, and I hope you never try to again. You're fighting, Zayn. You're not just laying down and allowing him to win. You're fighting and giving your all, but you need help, love," I said. He needed to talk to someone who could actually help him, and as much as I wanted to be that person to fully save him, I knew that I couldn't be. I think we both needed to realize that he needed the help.

    "You need help, but that's okay. You're okay, Zayn," I comforted, wiping away some of his tears. I had no idea how we got here. I think I was so consumed in my own problems that I never truly saw the full scope of his. And he never said a word, always helping me and loving me, and all I did was leave him when it got to be too much.

     "I'm afraid. I'm so scared that I'm permanently fucked up. I'm scared you'll leave again, but I'd never stop loving you," He said, looking down at the spot our hands now rested between us.

    "Zayn," I began, knowing that I messed up a lot in this crazy relationship. When we first started out, we were both cold to one another. As we grew, he was the one who always pushed, and I only ran. "I know I left you once, but I will never leave again. I don't ever want to go through that agony again. I'm going to be right by your side through this, and I'm going to show you just how amazingly strong you are. I love you so much," I declared.

    "I love you, too. I love you more than I can describe, princess," He said, his eyes shining with hope. He was run down, and everything was barely falling in on him. I didn't want to leave him alone.

   "Do you want me to stay tonight?" I questioned gently, seeing him nod timidly. It was as if he was feeling guilty for needing that, but he didn't have to. I wanted to stay either way.

    "My aunt's getting me help. She told me she knew a therapist, and she set an appointment up for me. I never told you because I felt ashamed. I guess that's why everything's feeling like it's about to collapse," He revealed, and I was thankful that Colette was keeping her promise of getting him help.

     "I'm happy for that, Z. And you should never feel ashamed of getting the help you need," I said, letting the silence fall between us for a while before Zayn pressed a sweet and simple kiss to my lips.

    "Thank you, Liam. For everything," He breathed out, and I felt my heart ache, but it wasn't painful. It was a good ache.

    "You don't have to thank me. I do it because I love you," I reminded, smiling at him, and it was like the sun came out of the clouds as he smiled back.

    "I think we're done here. Do you wanna send the guys home? The video was truly wonderful, Zayn. You'll get in for sure," I said, running my thumb over his hand, and he closed his eyes before nodding.

    "Okay. We're done here. I'll tell them I'm alright now, and I'll send them home. We can do whatever you want to after they leave," He offered. It sounded good to me, but I think Zayn just needed time to relax and feel loved.

    "So we'll just end up snuggling, yeah?" I asked, seeing Zayn smile brightly at that request. He gave a small chuckle before nodding, a look of relief filling him, and he seemed more comfortable now.

    "Definitely," He said. He pressed one last kiss to my lips before standing up and walking toward the door. I watched him as he walked away, opening the door and closing it behind him before I heard him begin to speak with the guys.

    I looked back down at the piano, running my fingers over the keys without pressing any down. I thought about the way Zayn gave his heart and soul when he played. He was truly something special, and I wanted him to know that.

     We were still in a stage where we were sorting things out, an outward spiral of trust and secrets being revealed, and I only prayed that we wouldn't crumble. I prayed that we would play the right notes.


	54. Figure

I wrote as if my life depended on it. The words seemed to flow so effortlessly from my brain onto the page. I was thinking faster than my hand could move, jotting down abbreviations for words that took much too long to write, chasing my train of thought.

We both try to forget the past, but it lasts, stealing every single breath from between us. It's just a matter of time before the hearts collapse, but neither one of us plans to lay victim.

It was everything about the struggles both Zayn and I have been through. It was one of the easiest songs I've ever written because I truly felt every word, yet it was hard to force my hand to write them down because they were permanent thoughts upon a paper now. They were readable, analyzable, understandable.

I was in the middle of writing another verse when there was a knock on my bedroom door. "Come in," I called. I was glad that my mum and I could live normally. I never had to worry about who could possibly be banging on my door anymore. I had privacy, but I still let my mum in on everything that was important.

"Liam, Colette just called me," She said, her voice sounding sorrowful and somber. I sat up straight, setting my pen down and paying attention to what she had to inform me of.

Today was Zayn's first therapy session. We spoke until three a.m. last night about it. Zayn was clearly frightened, but he was desperate for help. He didn't want to back out of it, and I was proud of him for that. He truly was learning to open up.

"Zayn just finished his first session. It was pretty hard on him. She just thought you'd want to go over and speak with Zayn. Louis' suppose to go later on tonight. Do you want to wait until them?" She asked, and I shook my head.

Going with Louis would make the whole thing easier because I would have someone else who truly knew Zayn by my side to assist him in feeling better. I, however, wanted to have some time alone with Zayn and help him through whatever after thoughts he was probably having.

"No, I can go alone. Um, may I go now, if that's okay?" I questioned. I was desperately trying to finish this song, but it could wait a while. Besides, perhaps Zayn and/or Louis could help me with it.

"Of course. I can give you a ride if you want," She offered, leaning against the doorframe, but I politely declines the offer. I wanted to be able to clear my head from the constant worry along the way, and the only way to fully do that would be to walk with my thoughts as the only company I had. I wanted to at least try to think happy thoughts and prepare myself for any situation Zayn could possibly be in.

"Alright. Just text me on whether or not you'll be home for dinner," She requested, walking into my room and kissing me on the forehead. "Be careful on the way there, sweetheart."

It was one of my mum's fears, allowing me out of her sight. I suppose it came with the revelation of my father's abuse. She wanted to be able to constantly protect me and make sure I wasn't being wounded. We've already sat and talked about it all, and she knew that wasn't possible. I needed to be able to take my own risks at times, and I also needed to realize that I couldn't always be protected. I had to stand up for myself as well.

My mum left my room, and I made sure to grab my backpack and slip my journal and two different colored pens into the pack. One was black and the other was red. Any corrections would be made in red ink. I knew pencils would be easier, but I couldn't find a single one in my dresser. Plus, I didn't fancy the smudges the marks sometimes left on the page.

I threw on my shoes and took out the leather jacket from underneath my pillow. It was something that I always slept with whenever I was home; every other night I had Zayn for comfort. I looked over at the dream catcher that hung on my wall, the one that Zayn commented on once.

I climbed onto my bed before taking it down from where it hung. I grabbed the thumb tack it was hanging on and placed it in a small pocket on the backpack. I placed the dream catcher inside with my journal, and I knew that I had all I needed.

I left my room and made my way down the hall, passing my mum in the living room and waving at her with a smile. "I'll be home later," I promised before slipping out of the front door and going on my way.

I began walking down the sidewalk, already delving into my thoughts to try and maintain a clear head before I actually got to Zayn's house. There was so much rubble within my head that I had to dig through.

    I began with the auditions. The end of the first round was coming up soon, and I was awfully nervous. I spent most of my time anticipating the whole thing and waiting for it to be over. I know that there was no point in trying to rush the process because I did was to put my best work out there, but it was slowly eating me alive.

     Zayn already turned in his audition video, and Louis mentioned that Harry said there were so many videos already flooding in. I had no idea how I would even be a thought in their mind. It was a board of about four students and two adults. They would sit and watch countless videos only to get bored and speed past mine as if it was nothing. It was really worrying me, but I had to stay calm.

     Just as I was trying to let the thoughts die, my phone rang in my pocket. I rushed to dig into my pant pocket, not looking where I was going, and I heard a small, high-pitched squeal in surprise as I bumped into somebody.

    I had a tight grip on my phone, so it didn't fall, but the other person dropped a few papers that scattered over the sidewalk. I quickly caught a couple of them before they could fly away, and I looked at the small figure kneeling on the ground, collecting the mess of papers.

    I bent down to help, collecting all of the papers I could into my hands and immediately apologizing to the stranger. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going, and I should have been," I apologized.

     "N-no. It's okay. I was distracted myself," The girl replied in a shy voice. I looked up at her and saw that she was pretty small, had a head full of unruly red curly hair, and had deep brown eyes that were so dark they almost seemed black, yet they held no sinister take to them. She seemed to be completely innocent as she adjusted her glasses from the bump.

     I looked down at the papers and saw that they were information about people; names, ages, talents. It was a bit weird, and I assumed she saw the bewildered expression on my face.

    "O-oh those aren't m-mine," She said, gathering the ones I held and placing them on top of others. "Well, I mean, they are, b-but I..." She took a deep breath as we both stood up again. "I go to Rosewood. I'm in charge of the auditioners. I have all of their information. I'm also late for a meeting," She sighed, tucking a curl behind her ear as she looked at the ground. She was clearly afraid of even speaking to a person, so I was curious as to what her talent was.

     "That's amazing. Um, my boyfriend and I are actually auditioning," I said, making her head snap up to look at me, and she smiled.

    "I know you! Liam Payne. I've read your audition page. A lyricist and singer. I'm awfully excited to hear what you've got. Have you sent in a video yet? We haven't seen any of the ones sent in yet. We start tomorrow, but the deadline is still the weekend," She explained, still showing signs of awkwardness as she repeatedly messed with her hair and glasses. She was a shy little thing, but somehow a likeable person.

    "I haven't. My boyfriend has. His name's Zayn," I said, seeing her eyes light up again at the information.

    "Zayn Malik? I've also read his audition form. He's the only pianist auditioning, I think. He's surely going to stand out. It's great that you're both doing this together," She offered, being completely sincere.

    "Thanks. I think he'll definitely make it. He's completely incredible. Harry's the one who recommended us," I said, and she smiled brightly. You'd never be able to guess that she was someone so nervous and shy if you only saw her smiling.

    "Harry's a good friend of mine. He's wonderful and definitely one of the most talented people at our school. His boyfriend is also very supportive. I've met him so many times at shows and all. If Harry thinks you both could make it, then I'm even more ecstatic to hear and see your audition videos."

    "Thank you. I'll make sure to send it in soon then. It was nice to meet you, um...." I trailed off, realizing that I didn't even know her name, yet she knew mine.

   She blushed in embarrassment and stuttered out a reply. "My- my name is M-Maya. Maya Angelou. And... yes, that's my real name. My mum's a fan of poetry, and she, um, she saw the opportunity with our last name," She explained, playing with the papers in her hand awkwardly.

    "No, I like it," I complimented, seeing her smile again, and she seemed to relax a bit.

    "Thanks," She said, biting her lip as she looked at the ground. Her watch made a beeping noise, and she started in fright. "Oh my, I better get going," She spoke frantically. "It was very n-nice meeting you, Liam. I wish you the best of luck," She offered, and then she was walking away in a rush.

     I continued on my way, the auditions now stuck on my mind. It was all just a very stressful time, and I could only imagine how Zayn was handling it all. At that very thought, I sped up, trying to get to his house faster in order to check on him.

     It didn't take me long to reach his house, and I walked right up to the front door, knocking a few times before Colette answered the door. "Oh, hello, Liam. I figured you'd come over. Come on in, love," She greeted, stepping aside and inviting me in with a kind smile.

     "My mum told me that the session was a bit rough on Zayn. I just wanted to make sure he was okay," I said, turning to face her once I was inside of the house. "Is he okay?"

    I bit my lip in anticipation and worry as she let out a deep sigh and shut the door. She turned to look at me and motioned for me to sit on the couch. "Would you like anything to drink, dear?" She offered as I complied and made my way to the sofa.

    "Thank you, but I'm alright," I said, knowing that this must have been quite a day for her as well. Her exhaustion was written on her face, but she still held a smile at times.

    She sat next to me and took a hold of my hands, an action that I knew was to bring comfort. "I was only in the room for the first half of the session before it was decided to allow him to try on his own," She confessed. "She asked Zayn a few questions that weren't too personal, just things to get him comfortable and talking, and then it took a turn onto the serious topics. His mum was mentioned... as well as his dad," She admitted, and I swallowed, feeling extremely nervous now.

     "It was small bits and pieces at first. She asked about his relationship with each parent, whether it was good or bad. That was the simple part, but the question dove deeper, and I left the room before hearing the rest. I probably should have stayed, but I want Zayn to realize how strong he can be. I know he's capable of fighting this, and I honestly cannot continue to try and shelter him from pain. He's felt it ever since he was little, and I need to come to terms with that. He's been hurt before, but I wasn't lying when I told you that I've never seen him this happy," She said, looking right at me with a thankful smile.

    "Liam, you make my precious nephew so, so happy. I cannot thank you enough for that. You give him a kind of strength that I've never seen. I know you both deeply love each other, and I hope you're both able to help each other heal. You're both beautiful boys, and I wish you never had to experience pain and harm. You don't deserve it," She admitted, her eyes watering up, but she held a firm smile.

    "I'm guessing most of the questions were about his father. I have no clue, but he was in tears as soon as we got into the car. He tried to hide it, but I saw, and I did my best to comfort him. It brings me great agony to know that there's not much I can do to settle the monsters of his past raging inside of him," A tear fell down her cheek, and it was a first for me. Colette was such a strong, happy, and inspirational woman. She never broke down.

      "He came home, begging for just one drop of alcohol to help take away the pain, but I stood firm against it. I threw it all out anyway," She admitted, wiping her tears and smiling kindly at me again. "He went into his room and hasn't been out since. You can go talk to him if you'd like, dear."

    I nodded, feeling my heart sink with every word she said. I knew the process of recovery would bring back all of his pain and memories, but I also knew it would be worth it in the end.

    "Okay. I will," I assured, standing up and walking toward the hallway. I froze as soon as I reached the edge of the couch. I turned back to Colette, seeing that she was looking down at her hands in deep thought.

     I never asked her about what she could have possibly went through as well. It must have impacted her some. It was her nephew, who is now so close to her that he's basically like her son. I called her Mrs. Malik one of the first times we spoke, but I never truly knew if she was related to Zayn's mum or his dad. It didn't feel right to bring any of it up, so I only smiled as I called her name, making her look up at me in curiosity.

    "Thank you... for everything. Zayn deserves someone like you in his life," I said. She smiled back at me, a true smile, and I knew it must've meant a lot to her. Even if she wasn't Zayn's actual mum, she was the only motherly figure he had now, and she's done nothing but set a good example. She should never feel guilty.

    I made my way down the hall after that, walking toward Zayn's room. The door was closed all the way, and I took a deep breath before turning the doorknob and opening the door to complete silence inside of the room.

     I saw Zayn laying on his bed, completely knocked out. His hair was askew, and he was curled in on himself as he slept. His eyebrows were furrowed together, as if he was even under torment in his dreams. It was an upsetting thought to have.

     I sighed, opening up my back pack and pulling out the dream catcher along with the thumb tack. I set my bag down onto the floor before moving to the head of his bed. I kneeled in front of the headboard and used all of my force to press the thumb tack into the wall, hanging the dream catcher.

     I sat back down beside Zayn and questioned whether or not I should wake him up. Still, I wanted to allow him to just rest and sleep away the exhaust of the day. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to tell a complete stranger your problems, let alone have them analyze how to help you get better.

    I leaned down to get my bag, pulling out my pens and my journal. I flipped to the page I was working on and uncapped my black pen, reading over the previously written words to refresh my memory. I looked over at Zayn for a moment, just admiring every little thing about the person I loved.

    He was a harsh exterior to break into, but he had so much good underneath. His outsides were built of metal, but he was far from hollow on the inside. He only needed something or someone to fill the void he felt and help his see that he was so much more than what meets the eye; than what he sees in the mirror.

    I took a deep breath, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the side of his head before pulling away. I watched as he visibly relaxed, his face losing all signs of stress in his slumber, and I smiled before turning back to my journal.

     I started writing again, thinking about everything I could possibly think of- our relationship, our personalities, everything I hated to love about Zayn. It was painful and torturous, yet beautiful and blissful as it grew from the tiny bud to the full on flower.

    I was so caught up in my writing, but I still heard the small intake of breath that fell from Zayn's lips as he stirred awake. I looked over to him, seeing that he was still laying down, yet he lifted his face to look at me.

    "When did you get here?" He asked. His voice was low, layered in the thickness of sleep, but it was still lovely.

    "A while ago. Thought I'd just let you sleep. You need it," I voiced, looking back at my journal and writing another line.

    "Can you lay with me?" He asked, eyes basically begging me, but there was no need. I would happily lay with him. Being close to Zayn was my favorite thing in the world.

    I set my journal and pens down on his nightstand and shifted until I was laying beside him. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close.

    "You're wearing the jacket," He pointed out, a small smile tugging at his lips, and it brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

    "Of course. I always have it around at home," I paused, still not use to the fact that I could call my actual house a home. It felt like one now, but I didn't feel half the comfort there that I felt with Zayn.

    "It's not all I brought," I admitted, looking up at the dream catcher I hung above his bed. He turned to look at it as well, and I watched a small smile grow on his lips. It was barely visible, but it was there in his tired eyes. "Thought it might help," I commented.

    "Thank you, princess," He said, looking back down at me and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I watched as his eyes fell closed again and he gave a small yawn. He was clearly tired and only trying to stay awake for me.

    "Go to sleep, love. You need it," I coaxed, seeing Zayn slowly nod before he leaned into me, his face hiding in the space of my neck. I couldn't help but beam as I felt his nose nuzzle against the skin there before pressing a soft kiss, making me blush for a second. He still had that impact on me.

      "Don't leave," He whispered before he fell silent. 

    I focused on his breathing pattern, listening as it became softer, signaling that he was falling deeper into sleep by the minute. "I won't," I promised, kissing his head and running my fingers along his arm, tracing random shapes along the expanse of skin.

     Our lives were on a rocky path at the moment, and we were both stressing ourselves to figure things out and get better; that made us forget one important thing.

     You cannot rush through the pains of living to reach the peace, but you can take the time in the darkness to gain strength and ready your eyes for the blinding of the light at the end of the tunnel.


	55. Comfortable

There was a small knock on Zayn's door, so I slowly climbed out of bed, setting my journal down, and made my way to quietly open it. I saw Colette standing there with a worried look on her face.

    "Is everything alright? It's been a couple of hours," She said, and I turned to look at the clock, seeing that she was right. I haven't even noticed how much time has flown by.

     "Um, yeah. We haven't talked or anything. Zayn's just been sleeping. I wanted to let him rest up a bit before talking about something so heavy," I assured. After Zayn fell back to sleep, I admired the way his face held a calm expression this time around, and I couldn't stop my hand from tracing over some of his facial features. Everything about Zayn was pure beauty. He was definitely crafted with care.

    I stayed laying by his side for a while, but I remembered that I had to finish writing my audition song. I pressed a kiss to his cheek before slowly moving out of his hold and grabbing my journal back. I got back into a comfortable writing position, and I could only smile as I felt Zayn shift closer to me in his sleep, his forehead now resting against my hip.

    "Okay, thank you," She said with a smile. "I was actually coming to see if you were hungry. It's almost lunch time, and I could make something small if you want. Muffins or something," She offered.

    I thought about it for a while, knowing that my body still lacked that feeling of being hungry, but I made a promise to at least try. I was doing so much better, and I wanted to show Zayn that we could both fight through our difficulties.

    "Muffins would be fine. Um, do you think I could eat one in here? I promised Zayn that I wouldn't leave, and I don't want him panicking if he wakes up, and I'm not in the room with him." I looked back at Zayn as he let out a small groan, seeing that he was moving around in his sleep.

     "Of course, dear. I'll get started, and I'll even bring an extra one in case Zayn wakes up," She informed before turning and walking back down the hall.

    I shut the bedroom door and turned back to the bed to see Zayn laying silently, staring up at the dream catcher I hung on his wall. I admired the small fluttering of his eyelashes whenever he blinked, taking in just how stunning he was after just waking up.

     "Hey," I spoke, walking to the bed and sitting back on the edge of it. Zayn turned to face me and gave me a small, sleepy smile.

    "Hey," He replied. His eyes drifted over to the journal that I had resting on his bedside table. "What've you been writing?" He questioned, sitting up slowly and resting against the headboard.

     "Oh, um, it's my audition song," I informed, grabbing my journal and looking down at the sloppy hand writing. There were both black and red ink marks, several corrections made so that the words would sound just right. I knew what I felt, but getting the words down on the page was a whole other story.

    "May I see it?" Zayn asked gently. He knew that my songs meant a lot to me, but I don't think he could even fathom how much this one meant. This song was written from a part of my heart that I never knew existed. It was almost as if the inner most chambers were sealed off, not aware of how to breathe until now.

    I looked at the journal, knowing that every single part of me, of us, of our relationship, was written down on the couple of pages I used. All of the negative and the positive. It was probably the most honest I've ever been, and I knew showing it to Zayn would completely either successfully remove whatever thin barriers remained between us or prove to him that this illusion we were under was just as toxic as we first thought and it should end.

     I swallowed thickly before looking back up at him and handing him the journal. His eyes never left my own as he accepted my offer and turned it around in his lap, finally looking down to read.

    I watched his facial expressions, trying to decipher exactly what he was thinking as he read through every word. I held my breath as I realized that his face and his eyes weren't giving too much away. He was taking it all in, but he wasn't projecting anything out. It only made me more nervous for his reaction.

     We sat in silence for a couple of minutes as he finished reading, and he finally looked up at me. His eyes only held pure amazement and that same hint of regret they always did when he thought about all of the terrible decisions he made.

     "Is this how you really feel? About everything?" He asked, and I gave a hesitant nod, still unsure about his reaction to it all.

     "I wanted to be completely honest," I confessed, thinking about the part of the lyrics when I mentioned how things felt too toxic and overwhelming. It was like we were both drowning at one point in time, but he was rising to the surface by pushing me down. That was what the bullying felt like and the brief period of time before he confessed his feelings- even a bit after. He was so back and forth back then, and it only confused me.

    "I don't feel that way now," I assured, scooting closer to him as he skimmed over the pages again. "It was only during that point of time where everything was terribly confusing. You'd be completely sweet one minute, but then the next minute you'd turn on me. It was so hard to decipher whether or not you truly even liked me then."

     Zayn looked up at me and shook his head. "You don't have to explain yourself, Liam. I was troublesome in the beginning... maybe even more troublesome now," He said, mumbling the second part. "I was so confused then, and I made you feel terrible. It's honesty, and you never have to apologize for being honest with me."

     He looked back at the journal once more before handing it back to me. I took it back, looking at all of the words he just read and feeling confident about everything now. I set the journal on my lap and looked up at him, noticing the way he was absentmindedly picking at the blanket while staring at the window with a impassive expression.

    "Your aunt told me what happened after therapy," I finally voiced what I've been itching to bring up. I knew that Zayn might be tired of my prying, but I wanted to make sure he was okay- just like he use to do for me. I understood that now.

     "I assumed she would," He replied, looking down at the covers that laid over his lap. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but he didn't seem angry or defensive in any way.

     "Zayn," I called in a gentle tone, setting my journal completely aside and crawling over to sit in front of him. "What's going through your mind?" I questioned. It seemed to me that Zayn could always read me. It seemed unfair how easily he knew what I was feeling or thinking when I couldn't do the same with him.

     "A lot," He vaguely stated. He took a deep breath before continuing to speak. "I guess I just wasn't as prepared as I thought I was to speak about my past. I knew it would be hellish, but I was never prepared for the reality of it."

    "You made it through, though, and that counts for something," I assured. Zayn gave me a slight smile before looking down at the blanket again, a frown filling his features.

      "A part of me is afraid," He divulged, biting at his lip anxiously. "I'm afraid that I might never be able to move on from what happened because it's been," He shrugged a bit, a hollow laugh escaping his lips, "basically all I've known my whole life. Happiness is so new to me. Sober happiness is difficult to maintain."

     "You can, Zayn. I know you can because you're already taking the first step. You're getting help, and that's a massive achievement in healing," I informed.

     "But talking about it all just brings it all back, and I can feel the thoughts clawing their way into my mind, making me feel completely insane. It's like I've gone mental, and I don't want to be that way. I don't want to slip back into anger and self-harm and alcoholism. I don't want the memories and words and thoughts to tear me apart. And the burden of it all is heavy. I'm hurting my aunt, I'm hurting you, I'm hurting myself by worrying so much...." He trailed off, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

    He rested his head against the headboard and took in a deep breath, trying to get his bearings back together.

    "It's not going to be easy, Zayn. No one ever said it would be easy, but you can get through it. You've been fighting it all for so long, and you might feel tired, but that doesn't mean you just give up or run away. If we both would have stopped fighting, we wouldn't be where we are now. Neither of us would even know what love was," I stated, seeing him open his eyes to look at me.

    "I'm not planning on giving up," He said, motioning for me to come closer, so I crawled onto his lap, straddling his legs as he stayed seated against the headboard. "It'll just be a very terrifying path to go down."

     I rested my hands between us as I felt my pride in him grow even more. "But you don't have to go through it alone," I took a deep breath as his hand moved to caress my cheek, holding my face delicately in his hands. I couldn't hold myself back from leaning into his touch, but I didn't want to anyway.

     "You're my falling star, Zayn," I whispered, remembering the breathtaking story he told me once. All of the times I wished for freedom, love, and happiness, I never thought they would come true. He made that all possible. He was my wish.

    "I love you, princess," He stated, leaning in so that our lips were brushing against each other. That sane tingling sensation filled my body, and my heart was exploding with affection.

    "I love you, too," I breathed out, and then we were kissing. It was a steady kiss that still held a softer side to it. It was a kiss that truly showed that we were finding our way past everything. We were no longer frightened of each other, we no longer questioned what we could be, and we no longer ran from love. We were falling perfectly into place like two jigsaw pieces.

     We both pulled away from one another in fright as we heard a knock on Zayn's bedroom door. I made a move to climb off of Zayn's lap, but his hands kept me there, as if our position didn't seem suggestive in the slightest.

    The door opened, and Colette walked in with a plate that held two muffins on it. I felt myself immediately blushing as she smiled at us, raising an eyebrow at our arrangement.

     "We were just kissing," I rushed out, trying to explain that nothing more was going on, but I only managed to become more embarrassed as I remembered the fact that so much more has actually happened on this bed. Much more would probably occur on this bed in the future as well.

     "No need to look so red, dear. I know. Teenagers kiss, especially when the two love each other," She commented, setting down the plate of muffins on the nightstand. "Oh, I know all about the teenage experience. I was one once. Never forget that, boys," She teased, and I groaned in utter embarrassment as I hid my face in Zayn's chest.

     I felt him laugh a bit, hearing Colette laugh as well. I didn't quite think the situation was funny in any way. It was horrifying.

    "Liam, I'm only teasing," She said, going back over to the door. "I'm going to go finish with the muffins, so I'll leave you two alone. Just don't forget that Louis should be over any minute now," She warned before walking out of the door and shutting it behind her.

     "Oh my goodness," I groaned against Zayn's chest, "that was the most embarrassing moment of my life," I whined.

    I heard Zayn chuckle, feeling the rumble through his chest, but I couldn't be mad at him. I was just thankful that something made him smile. "C'mon, it wasn't that bad."

     "Yes, it was!" I insisted, attempting to get off of Zayn's lap again, but he kept me there. "Why didn't you just let me off? It would have been a thousand times easier that way."

     "Oh really? Last time we were in a compromising position, I distinctly remember you wanting something completely different," He said, raising an eyebrow, and I immediately hid my face again, feeling my face heat up more than ever before.

      "We were never suppose to talk about that," I mumbled, feeling so exposed and insecure. I knew Zayn was just teasing me, but I just couldn't believe I actually let it slip out that I wanted to go all the way with him.

     "Why not? It's not like you requested anything dirty or something-" He began, continuing to mess with me, and I cut him off.

     "Stop it," I warned, but I never lifted my head from his chest. I was far too flushed at the moment.

     I heard him laugh once more before thinhs got quiet again. I wanted to look up at him and see what he was doing now, but the situation made me feel almost awkward. Still, I felt myself relax as Zayn's hand trailed a line down my spine. It wasn't sexual at all; it was calming and simple.

     "I love this," He announced, and I listened intently as he explained himself. "I love how you can just make me forget. You just make me so damn happy. I love that you can do that; even just the mention of you."

     I couldn't help but smile at his sweet words. I also enjoyed these small moments of pure happiness, even if it was at my expense. I could handle the teasing and mortification if it meant the drama could be set aside for a second of normality.

     I finally looked up at him to see that he was staring at me in pure adoration. I pressed an innocent kiss to his cheek, seeing him pout a bit at the fact that I didn't kiss his lips instead, and I giggled at the action.

     "I love you," I said, making him grin once again. I think I was utterly smitten with that grin. His eyes were just brighter when he smiled, and he seemed to brighten up like the sun.

     "I love you, too," He replied. "Although, I think I'd love you more if you actually kissed me on the mouth." He gave me a small pout, almost pulling a full puppy face that I found admittedly adorable.

    "When did you become a five year old?" I joked, loving how easy everything felt in this moment.

     "The moment my boyfriend refused to kiss my lips," He easily answered.

    I rolled my eyes before leaning in and pressing my lips to his in a small peck. "Happy now?" I questioned, seeing that his eyes were still trained on my lips as I pulled away.

     He shook his head while leaning in again. "Not in the slightest," He answered before kissing me again- a real kiss. It was full of so much passion and love that it made my head spin. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have found this.

     "Zayn, Louis' here!" We heard his aunt call from the living room, and Zayn sighed as we split apart.

      "He couldn't have waited five more minutes," I heard him grumble under his breath, and I laughed as I pressed another kiss to his lips to cheer him up a bit before finally climbing off of his lap. I didn't need Louis' teasing as well.

     I sat beside him, leaning to rest my head against his shoulder as his arm wrapped around my waist. There was a small knock on his bedroom door before it was pushed open and Louis stepped inside.

     "Hey, Zayn, Liam," He greeted, closing the door behind him as he observed us and the atmosphere of the room. "I'm guessing things are alright?" He questioned.

     "Yeah," Zayn answered, looking down at me with a small smile. "Things are great for now," He responded, and I did my best to ignore the small sting in my heart, knowing that Zayn's happiness wouldn't last long after I left. He knew that himself, and it hurt me to know just how depressed he was inside; how much he hated living because of his past and his actions. I wanted him better, but I knew it would take time, and we were slowly getting there.

       "That's good," Louis smiled, seeming pleased for his best friend. He looked over to the bed, seeing my discarded journal, and he picked it up, making me tense a bit. "What's this?" He asked as he skimmed the pages.

     "Um, my audition song," I answered hesitantly. "I think I'd be ready to record it soon. Just have to practice a bit."

    I moved out of Zayn's hold, leaning over to grab one of the muffins off of the plate and taking a bite of it. I saw Zayn smile at me proudly before giving me a light kiss on the cheek. I was honestly proud of myself as well. I was slowly learning how to care for myself, and I would take every bite of food as a small victory.

     "Liam, this is really good," Louis commented, sounding astonished. "You're definitely getting in. We should record this soon. The deadline is coming up, but I wouldn't worry. You're both going to smash it!" He voiced excitedly.

    "Thank you, Louis," I said, feeling a tad more confident in myself. It seemed like there was just so much support recently, for the both of us, and it brought so much comfort.

     "And now that you've finished it, how about we go and celebrate?" He suggested, seeming thrilled with the idea.

     "We don't even know if either of us will get in yet," Zayn answered, thinking the exact same thing I was. It would be a disappointment if we celebrated this small achievement only to be let down.

      "I don't want to hear protests, Malik. I want to hear acceptance to my offer," Louis replied, shutting my journal and setting it down on the nightstand. "Now, we can either sit here and chat about... I don't know, our love lives or something sappy, or we can get up, call the others, and have some fun."

     I looked over to Zayn, seeing that he was smiling in amusement at Louis' enthusiasm. He seemed up for whatever he had planned, but I wasn't. I felt anxious about the whole thing. I don't remember the last time I just went out to have fun. I was usually too bruised up to do anything.

     "What would we be doing?" I questioned, feeling a bit worried because I knew that Zayn and Louis use to love to stir up trouble. I still recalled the night Zayn stumbled into my room pissed out of his mind after they went clubbing together. I didn't fancy that type of scene.

      "We'll be civil human beings. I promise," Louis replied, nudging me a bit in an attempt to change my mind. It has been a while since I've had fun, and going out wouldn't hurt. I had to stop being so negative.

     I looked up at him and nodded. "Alright, fine," I gave in, watching as he yelled in delight. "But no parties or clubs," I warned.

    "Don't worry, Payno. I've got this all under control," Louis smiled, and I took a deep breath in before letting it out.

     This was going to be a long night, but maybe a little adventure was what I needed. I wasn't being controlled by anyone anymore, so maybe it was time to live my life.

     Truth be told, a part of me was excited to take one step further into living a normal life, even if it seemed terrifying from the outside. It was time to get back the time and experiences I've lost.


	56. Oasis

I followed behind the rest of the guys, just thankful that Zayn stayed behind with me, holding my hand and not rushing me in the slightest. Truth be told, I was deathly nervous of spending the rest of the afternoon and the night just hanging out. I didn't know how to act or what to say. It wasn't a typical thing for me as it was for them.

We were walking through the mall, making our way to the arcade that Louis claimed was amazing. I don't think I've ever even been inside of an arcade. I've seen them in movies and heard all of the kids in elementary school talking about them, but I never had the money nor the friends to go with; not to mention my lack of freedom.

"This is going to be great," Louis gushed excitedly. His arm was wrapped around Harry's waist as they walked side by side, basically leading the group of us there. Drew and Niall were busy joking around with each other as well, and I was proud of how well we were all getting along.

"I heard they've got a new zombie game. You put on these headsets, and it feels like you're actually there and killing the zombies," Niall commented quickly. I could feel all of the boyish joy radiating off of them, but I couldn't feel the same at all.

"That's so sick! I bet I could kill more than you can," Drew challenged. Niall laughed while shaking his head before shaking his hand as a silent bet.

"How can you stand those games? I prefer the classic arcade ones if I'm honest," Harry spoke up, making Louis smile at him.

"Ah, yes. Pac-Man, Space Invaders, and Asteroids. All of the best graphics. What fun," Louis teased. Harry rolled his eyes, but I could tell he wasn't upset. It was refreshing to just see everyone having a good time. A little friendly teasing didn't hurt, and it seemed to be something that would come about more often.

"Alright, Mr. Mario Kart. They're classics. You race your little cars while I use actual skill," Harry replied, sticking his tongue out a bit, but shrieking and pulling out of his hold as Louis actually licked his cheek. I couldn't help but smile as he pushed Louis away a bit, having a playful argument about his actions.

"Are you excited?" I heard Zayn ask from beside me, pulling back all of my attention. The worry that was stored in the back of my mind immediately came alive at the question.

"I'm not sure, honestly," I replied. I didn't want to ruin everyone else's moods by completely bailing, and I didn't want to cheat myself out of having a potentially good time as well. "I guess I'm just a bit afraid. I'm not really one for public outings, and I've, um... never actually been to an arcade before," I confessed, immediately avoiding Zayn's eyes and staring down at the tiled flooring.

I felt Zayn lift my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it and making me look up at him. He was smiling sweetly at me, and I relaxed a bit. I knew that he wasn't going to make fun of me or anything, but it made me feel so out of loop to not know what to expect when the others did.

"It's alright, Liam. Although, I do have to warn you that arcades can be pretty loud. They're nothing to worry about, though. It's just a bunch of people trying to have a good time. I think you'll quite enjoy it," He assured me, and I took a deep breath while nodding, deciding to trust him.

We all stopped walking after a few seconds, and I looked over to see that we stopped right in front of the entrance to the arcade. The doors were wide open, being held opened by metal stoppers, and the inside looked completely insane.

The lighting of the place was dark, but it was made up for by the multiple flashing lights of games, the machines, the colorful signs, and the placement of the prize table. You could hear all of the laughter, shouting, and excitement from the people inside. It was almost defeaning.

Louis turned to look at the rest of us and began a little speech. "Alright, lads, this is it. Once we step inside of those doors, it's a warzone. Whatever you play, you give it your all. Remember that the more tickets you get, the bigger the prize. I expect greatness from all of you," He spoke as if he was a general in the military.

"Lay off, already, Tomlinson," Zayn interrupted, making Louis glare at him before he finally gave up the act.

"Let's go have some fun, boys," He said, making the rest of them cheer before we were all heading inside. I watched as Louis and Harry walked off in the same direction, going toward some older arcade games while Niall and Drew races toward the giant zombie game sitting in the far corner- the one they were talking about. They seemed to already be having fun, but I was only panicking.

There were so many people, and the sounds were nearly explosive. I tried to concentrate on following behind Zayn as he led me deeper into the arcade, but it proved to be difficult as my breathing began to intensify.

People were rushing back and forth, some of them bumping into me in their undeniable rush of happiness, and every jolt and push made it harder to stay calm. Noises were coming from all around; games beeping, people yelling, and machines droning out never-ending amounts of tickets. It was all very frightening.

I didn't even know I had tugged on Zayn's hand until he turned to me with confusion. His face instantly turned to worry as he saw my frightened eyes. I felt like I couldn't breathe, and I became dizzy as lights continued to flicker and flash uncontrollably. It's been awhile since I've had a panic attack, but it was just as terrifying.

"Breathe, Liam. You need to control your breathing," Zayn stated, holding me at arms length and attempting to maintain eye contact with me, but I couldn't stop my eyes from frantically shifting around the arcade, overwhelmed by it all.

"I- I can't, Zayn, I can't," I nearly whimpered out, covering my ears with my hands as I shut my eyes. I wanted to close in on myself. I wanted to disappear from this chaotic place.

I felt Zayn pull me a bit closer to him, but he made sure to leave space between us. I would only freak out even more if he trapped me in his arms. It would feel like I was being trapped- a caged animal.

I felt his hand come up to lightly lift my chin, and I heard his voice- soft and serene- as his other hand removed one of my own from my ear.

"Look at me, baby. Just look at me," He requested, and I slowly opened my eyes, still feeling my heart racing in fear as I managed to hold eye contact with him. He gave a loving smile, and even in my panicked state of mind, I still felt the butterflies errupt in my stomach at the action.

"Good. Just listen to my voice, princess. Just breathe with me, okay? In and out. You can do this. You're alright. Nobody is going to hurt you. You're safe. I've got you," He gently ordered before taking deep breaths in and out. I followed his lead, paying close attention to every breath he took. I began to feel myself relax, but the aftershock of it all still made my hands shake.

As soon as I was calm enough, Zayn pulled me into a hug, keeping me close as he pressed kisses to the top of my head. "Are you okay?" He questioned, and I nodded, doing my best to keep my anxiety under control. I had to just come to terms with the fact that this was normal. It was usually this loud and bright in arcades, but that didn't mean I was in harm's way. It was meant to be a place for fun. I had to learn to have fun.

"Yeah," I confirmed. I pulled out of the hug, looking at everyone around us, seeing that only a few people were watching us after the little scene that just played out while everyone else seemed too focused on whatever game they were playing. The people diverted their gazes as soon as they noticed me staring.

I looked back at Zayn and smiled sheepishly. "Um, sorry about that. I wasn't expecting it to be so... like this," I said, having no clue how to describe the arcade. It was a word stronger than mental.

Zayn gave out a small laugh and nodded. "I know. It's a lot to take in. It's like heaven to a child. It's pure wide-eyed excitement," He informed, taking my hand in his again.

I felt a twinge of envy at the fact that I couldn't even relate to common childhood experiences. Still, I felt thankful for the fact that I could finally move on and experience all of those things I've missed out on as a kid.

"C'mon, let's start off easy," Zayn said, leading me through the crowds of people toward a game called Tapper. I felt intimidated just walking up the machine.

"Alright, this game is simple. You're the bartender, and you have to serve the customers their drink. You slide it down the table, let them drink, and finally collect the empty glass that they slide back. It does get difficult, though, when more customers come and it moves along faster," He explained, gesturing for me to stand in front of the machine.

He motioned over to a token machine, and I waited patiently as he walked over, putting money into the machine in order to get tokens. He came back with a handful of them, handing me two of them before putting the rest of them into his pocket.

I looked around for where the tokens go before seeing the place near the base of the machine that read "2 tokens." I inserted the two tokens and was surprised as the machine seemed to come to life. I looked back at the screen to see that I only needed to press a button to begin.

"You ready?" Zayn asked, smiling at my shock and confusion. I nodded, clearing my throat as I stepped back up to the machine and set one of my hands on the joy stick, setting my other over the tap.

The game began, and it took me a second to learn the controls, but once I got the hang of it, it was a lot more fun. I think the best part about playing the game was the tickets that came pouring out of the machine after I lost. It was an honest rush, and I wanted more.

That's how the next hour or so went. Zayn and I continued playing all kinds of games- classic arcade ones, we shot some basketballs against one another, we played games that forces you to gamble your own tokens for a chance to win most, and we even play games that only give you prizes such as small stuffed animals. I would be lying if I said I didn't completely blush after Zayn won a fuzzy stuffed puppy and handed it over to me as a gift. It was an action that made me realize just how attached I was to him, but I wasn't afraid.

"We should probably try to find the rest of the guys now," He suggested after we finished playing a fighting game, which I sadly lost. "It's getting a bit late, and I could go for some food," He added.

"Well, we have a few tickets. Maybe we'll see them on the way to the prize booth," I suggested, picking up the stuffed animal that I placed beside the machine. Zayn nodded, kissing my cheek before we began to walk toward the prize center.

"Dammit! You were so close!" We heard a familiar voice yell. Louis.

Zayn and I shared a look before we made our way toward his voice, finding all of the rest of the guys around a game that seemed to be in the shape of a wheel. I watched as Niall placed a token into the machine and spun the wheel. They all paid close attention to the little arrow at the top of the wheel, but they groaned as it ticked passed the label that read "Jackpot" and stopped on one that only gave out five tickets.

"I guess that means you've run out of Irish luck," Drew commented, making Niall shove him a bit before he took out the tickets he won.

"Louis, this game is pure luck. You've spent seven tokens trying to get that stupid jackpot prize. Can we just use the last token and be done?" Harry asked, leaning against another machine and seeming completely done with his antics.

"Okay, lads. We have one last token. Who wants to give it a go?" Louis asked, holding up the single token. He looked over at Zayn and I before smiling. "Liam! You try," He ordered, shoving the token into my hand.

"What? Me?" I was surprised that he would actually volunteer me for this. "I don't exactly have the best luck, Louis," I reminded. A lot of things seemed to go wrong for me, but then again, things seemed to finally be working out.

"Sure you do. I mean, I'd say finding your fucking soulmate at such a young age is lucky," He casually stated, making me blush even more as I pulled my hand out of Zayn's, stepping up to the machine without another word.

I inserted the token and took a deep breath before I spun the wheel. We all stood, watching in anticipation as the wheel spun round and round. We all let out a collective gasp as the wheel began to slow down, coming closer and closer to the jackpot spot before... it ultimately passed it to land on a twenty ticket win instead.

Louis groaned in frustration before walking away with what he had, mumbling something about the machine being a rigged piece of crap. Harry laughed loudly, making the tension ease and the rest of us to laugh as well before we followed behind Louis to the prize table, ending our arcade adventure.  
\------------------------------------------------------

All six of us were sitting on the curb of the street, eating food that we bought from a street vendor. Louis and Harry were sharing nachos, Niall had a hot dog that he was basically scarfing down, Drew settled for some chips that were almost empty now, Zayn had a sandwhich of some sort, and I settled for a warm pretzel.

I only took a single bite out of my pretzel before sitting silently and listening to the others have full blown conversations about the fun they had at the arcade. Regardless of the fact that we didn't win the jackpot, it was an overall wonderful time. We all got small prizes, but my favorite was still the stuffed dog that Zayn won for me.

"We really should have gotten more napkins," Harry commented, making a face of disgust at the amount of cheese that stained his fingers from the nachos.

"You don't need a napkin. You've got me," Louis joked, making Harry roll his eyes, but he still pressed a loving kiss to his cheek.

"Keep it PG, you two," Niall teased, crumbling up his hot dog wrapper and tossing it onto the sidewalk, making Harry slap him on the arm until he picked it back up.

"So, how was your night out, Liam?" Louis asked me, snapping me out of my trance and pulling me into the conversation. 

I saw all of them looking at me, awaiting my answer. I cleared my throat and nodded slightly. "It was good," I said. I honestly had no clue how to describe the night. It was very chill, yet overly thrilling. It was perfect. "Great, even."

"How's the audition video coming?" Harry questioned, grabbing another napkin and cleaning off his hand. "I'm so excited to see them all, but even more so for the both of yours," He smiled.

"Thanks. It's coming along okay. I barely finished writing the song, and Louis' going to help me record it soon. I'm quite nervous, if I'm being honest. Zayn did excellent, though," I said, wrapping the pretzel back up and setting it to the side.

"I did alright," Zayn justified before speaking lowly to me. "Are you not hungry?"

I shook my head at his question, smiling to ease his worry. I wasn't purposefully pushing food away, I just wasn't in the mood to eat right now. "I'll eat it later," I comforted before speaking to Harry again. "I ran into a girl yesterday. Uh, Maya."

"She told me. She's very excited for the two of you to audition in front of us for round two," He said, and my heart skipped a beat at the fact that we would have to do that. If we passed the recording round, we had to pour out our emotions in front of a panel of people who decided whether or not we were good enough.

I was going to voice my fears, but Louis spoke up excitedly. "Look! Street performers," He called, pointing over to a small band that was setting up. There was a violin player, one that played the guitar, and one that held a trumpet in hand. A small crowd began to form around them as the started playing, a low and happy tune that seemed perfectly romantic.

"Alright!" Niall cheered. "I'm going to check it out. Anyone wanna join?" He asked, Drew, Louis, and Harry standing up to join.

Zayn and I watched them walk away in silence, and I saw Zayn close his eyes, listening to the music with an almost blissful look on his face. There was a small curl at the end of his lips, indicating a smile. Music truly was his pill to ease the pain, and I found it beautiful.

"Wanna go see?" I offered, nudging him with my knee against his.

His eyes opened slowly, and he turned to look at me. He stood up without replying, and I watched as he stood in front of me, holding a hand out and taking a deep breath.

"I cannot believe I'm going to do this, but here goes. Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" He posed the question eloquently, but I was a bit unsure.

"There are people around, and I... we're on the street... I can't dance, Zayn," I said, continuously thinking up excuses. It would be quite embarrassing to just randomly begin dancing in the street, even if there was music.

"Neither can I, but I want to try this. Call me crazy, and maybe I've seen one too many romance films, but it seems fun. What harm would it do?" He persuaded.

I looked around, seeing that most passerby were either drawn toward the performers or lost in their own phones. There was nothing to lose, I guess.

I took Zayn's hand, setting the stuffed dog onto the curb along with the rest of our belongings. He pulled me to my feet, and I nearly tripped as he pulled me toward him, holding me close.

I was entirely hypnotized by him as he adjusted our positions. One of his hands wrapped around my lower back, holding me close to him as his other held my hand. I awkwardly place my free arm over his shoulder, looking down at the ground as our feet began to move. I was hoping and praying I wouldn't trip over my own foot- or his.

I let Zayn lead, the pace of our dancing just as slow and lovely as the music- curling and twirling through the air like a feather on the wind. I looked back up at him, planning on cracking a joke to ease the massive amount of butterflies I suddenly felt, but all of those plans fell away as I was met with his intense stare.

His eyes roamed over my face as if it was his first and last time seeing me. There was a darkened look in his eyes, but it wasn't threatening. It was as if he was longing for something that he wouldn't dare ruin the moment for. My breath hitched as his eyes finally met my own, full of love and passion that seemed to bloom like a nurtured flower. There was a bright depth to the darkness in his eyes.

The music seemed to fade into the background, and all I could hear was the beating of my own heart in my ears. I was suddenly intimidated, feeling that wondrous fear that came along with love. I was getting sucked deeper into the eye of the tornado. It was dealthy terrifying, and I wanted to run away from it, but I knew the center was calm. The center made everything else in the world seem to just... stop.

I noticed that we stopped dancing. Our feet were planted firmly on the ground, but my legs felt like they would give out at any moment. I wanted to look away from his eyes, break the weird haze I was in, but I couldn't. The winds were too strong to fight against.

"I love you, princess. I love you a lot," Zayn voiced, and it took a moment for my brain to register the words. Somewhere among my clouded mind, I found the words to reply.

"I love you, too. So much," I confessed in an almost scared tone of voice. Because this felt like a definite turn in our relationship. It felt like we were too far from the surface to ever turn back. We were in too deep, suffocating slowly, but we knew it would all be okay. We hit the dark part of the ocean, blind. As blind as love can be. But I found that I wasn't fearing for my life. I trusted Zayn enough to dive even deeper, knowing that he wouldn't allow my oxygen to waste.

"I know we've never been on an actual date, but I want to give that to you. I want to give you that and so much more. Liam, will you please allow me to take you out for a real date this weekend?" He requested, his voice sounding so full of hope.

I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. It was true. Zayn and I have never been on a date, and I didn't realize how badly I wanted that until now. I didn't think or expect it to ever happen. But a date... how do you act on a date?

There was no barrier. It would be different from the both of us sitting and being each other's comfort for our problems. It would be a romantic setting. It would feel pressuring. The pressure to be perfect; everything he envisioned. It would be a further step in the right direction.

"I- I..." I stuttered, our hands dropping from the position they were in when we were dancing. I noticed the music stop, and peopler were beginning to disperse from the performers after a few claps.

I felt panic filling me up again, and my breathing felt stunted. I took a deep breath in, refocusing on Zayn's hopeful eyes before speaking.

"Okay," I breathed out.

A bright smile spread across Zayn's lips, and he gave out a breathy laugh as he pulled me into a kiss. I felt myself smiling into the kiss, astonished at the fact that I actually accepted. It felt amazing!

We broke out of the kiss, and Zayn continued giving out adorable laughs of happiness. I felt thankful that I could bring about that happiness in him- true happiness.

He rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes momentarily. It was a moment of pure joy and comfort. Sadly, it was cut short.

"Alright, lovebirds, save it for the bedroom," Drew joked. Zayn and I pulled apart, turning to see the rest of the boys making their way back to us.

"Oh, leave them alone. It's adorable," Harry defended, smiling at us as Louis wrapped his arm back around it waist. It was like it belonged there.

"I'm glad you're both happy," Niall commented, offering both of us smiles. Truth be told, I did feel a bit bad about turning Niall down, but he seemed to be handling it well. I knew Zayn didn't necessarily take a liking to either him or Drew, so it also meant a lot that he was able to play nice during this whole night.

"Well, I think we should call it a night. We've all got school tomorrow, after all," Louis said, stretching with a small yawn escaping his lips.

"Is Tomlinson being responsible for once?" Zayn said in mock surprise. I found the ease of tonight to be really refreshing. It was nice to feel drama free for a change.

"Oi! I can be responsible if I want to, Malik," Louis defended, crossing his arms and looking away from us in a haughty fashion.

"Alright. I believe you. I'm getting a bit tired anyway," Zayn said, and we all agreed. We all collected our things from the curb and began walking to Harry's car.

"So, who am I taking home first?" He asked as soon as we were all situated. The back seat was quite a squeeze, but we managed to make it work.

"Doesn't Louis live the closest?" Niall reminded.

"Harry's spending the night at mine," Louis informed as he fiddled with the stack of CDs in the glove compartment.

"Oh, so that's why you're in a rush to get home, innit?" Drew commented, waggling his eyebrows, and Niall laughed at the suggestive motion.

"What we do is none of your business. Drew's going home first," Louis snarked, and I elbowed Zayn as I heard him laugh in agreement. He really had to learn to at least pretend he liked him.

"You can drop me off first. I live closer by here," I suggested instead, and Harry nodded as we pulled into the road and began to make our way toward my house.

As soon as we arrived, I climbed out of the car, about to close the door when Zayn stepped out as well. "I'll just walk home. Thank you, Harry. See you later, Lou," He said, closing the door and turning to face me as Harry drove away shortly after.

"I thought you were tired?" I reminded, seeing Zayn shook his head as he held my hand, leading me to the front door.

"Wanted to make sure you got in safe and sound," He confessed rather adorably. I don't think I'd ever get use to Zayn's endearing acts.

"Well, mission accomplished," I stated as I unlocked the front door.

I looked back at Zayn, seeing him smiling sleepily. "I love you," He said again, and I nodded.

"I know. I love you, too."

He stepped directly in front of me before pressing a kiss onto my forehead. "Can't wait for our date. I'll let you sleep now. Have sweet dreams, princess," He finished, pressing one last kiss to my lips before slowly letting go of my hand and walking down the path of my house.

"You, too," I whispered as I stepped inside of my house and shut the door behind me.

As I made my way to my room, I thought about the whole day. It was perfect. Everything was relaxed and so balanced.

Things were falling into place so easily. Everything was going well, and a huge part of me feared that the luck would run out. I didn't know if I was prepared for that.

Still, I had to enjoy what I had now. I had to live in the moment because everything else was uncertain.


	57. Fight

"Liam, please come see me before you leave for lunch," Mrs. Michaelson called, and I nodded. I finished putting all of my belongings back into my bag as everyone else filed out of the classroom, Drew signaling that he'll see me in the lunch room.

I grabbed my bag and put it on before walking over to Mrs. Michaelson's desk. I wasn't worried about what it was she wanted to talk about anymore because she was honestly a nice and cool person. She's been giving Zayn and I amazing support.

Speaking of Zayn, she pulled out two pieces of paper from her desk drawer before looking up at me and asking the question I figured she would ask. "Where is Zayn today, Liam?"

My heart sunk a bit as I responded. "I'm not sure. I'm pretty positive he stayed home today, but he hasn't told me anything. I think he's just not feeling well," I explained. Still, it was rather unsettling to think that just last night everything seemed fine. What happened after Zayn left my house?

"Well, give him my regards to get better," She smiled politely, and I nodded in understanding. "Now, I have your recommendation letters all typed up here. I suggest you keep those in a safe place and take them to your live audition." She handed me both of the papers, figuring that I would happily deliver Zayn's to him.

I accepted them graciously, looking over the piece of printed paper as if it was my whole future- which it very well might be. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Michaelson, but we only do the live audition if we pass the video auditions," I reminded, seeing her sly smile.

"I'm aware of that. I have no doubt you'll both be fine," She stated before waving me off. "Go have fun now, and suggest the idea of singing along with the piano playing to Zayn. I know he could do it."

I nodded before walking out of the room, looking down at the two recommendation letters with so much appreciation. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, sighing in disappointment when there were no new missed calls or messages from Zayn. I was worried sick about him.

I opened up the last message I sent to him from this morning, asking where he was, and I began to type a new message.

To Zayn: Mrs. Michaelson gave me our recommendation letters. They're really something. I'll come by later to drop yours off, yeah?

I hit send, putting my phone back in my pocket and continuing on my way to the lunch room.

Things have been rather quiet at school. With Kyle gone, all of his jerk friends seemed totally clueless. All they knew was how to play follow the leader, but without Zayn or Kyle leading them, they were like sitting ducks. I couldn't say it wasn't a bit enjoyable to see. Still, I knew Kyle was only suspended, and I was hoping Zayn and I could be out of this school before he ever returned.

I arrived at the cafeteria, made my way through the lunch line, and I carried my salad over to our table, seeing Drew and Louis already sitting and chatting. I sat quietly as I listened to them.

"It was a great movie, but I just think it was a little... not cliché, but overrated," Drew said, taking a bite out of the burger he got.

Louis threw his hands up as he replied. "Thank you! That's what I told Harry, but he insists that it's such a great romance film. I can't stand it anymore. We've watched it fifty-seven times. I'm debating on burning it," He said, but something told me he wouldn't. If something brought Harry joy, Louis would never dream of ruining it.

"I'll help you if you decide to, mate," Drew commented with a mouth full of food before he swallowed and turned to me. "Any word from Zayn yet?" He questioned, and I sighed.

"Nope," I glumly informed. "I've been messaging him, but I haven't gotten a reply. He hasn't even read them." I looked uo at Louis and asked, "Have you heard anything from him?"

"Sorry, mate," Louis voiced as he shook his head, "he only told me that he didn't feel well."

"Physically or...?" I trailed off, knowing that Louis understood what I was asking. Zayn wasn't in a good place mentally, and I had a feeling that something wasn't right after last night. Something must have happened either late last night or early this morning.

"I don't know. I asked him about it, but he never replied. I understand if he doesn't want to mention whatever's bothering him, but I am worried about him," Louis confessed. It couldn't possibly be easy on him, either. Zayn has always been his best friend, and I could only imagine how difficult it must be to know that a person you've always known had to suffer in silence. You thought they were happy, but you never truly looked behind their smiles.

"His aunt wouldn't let anything happen to him," Drew spoke up when neither of us could. Again, I found myself thankful we've become friends of a sort.

There was a small silence after that was said, and I didn't feel hungry at all, but I opted to eat a bit anyway. I had to slowly work my way up to eating full meals instead of just a few bites. It was difficult, but I knew I could do it.

"Maybe we can record today," Louis suggested, and I looked up at him as I collected a forkful of salad. At least the leaves of lettuce didn't make my stomach churn in any way.

"The song?" I questioned, wondering why Louis had this sudden eagerness to record it already. I was ready to record, honestly, but it was scary. The video had to be better than good. It had to be stellar, and that was an intimidating thought.

"Yeah. Why not? I figured the deadline is soon, so we might as well record it. Also, I think I know something we could do to hopefully make Zayn feel a bit better," Louis suggested, and I thought about it for a moment before nodding.

"Okay. Do you want to do it at my house after school or yours?" I questioned. I actually have never seen Louis' house, but it seemed like he had a typical home life. He could invite his boyfriend over anytime, he could go out with his friends whenever, and he talked about his family as if they were very dear to him, even if they annoyed him at times.

"I'd say your house. My sisters would probably get in the way. They're always running around and yelling, and I'm pretty sure the oldest two wouldn't shy away from flirting," Louis said with a laugh. He seemed truly fond of his family and his home, and I was thankful to know that life wasn't a complete mess for everyone. Some people were perfectly happy, and though I envied that some, it also gave me hope.

"Alright. I'll let my mum know I'm having a friend over, but she might be working anyway. It shouldn't be too big of a deal," I insisted. I didn't mind Louis coming over, but it never failed to shock me just how far into our friendship we've gone.

I still remember the first time Louis was actually kind to me. Of course, he began acting nice because of his fear that I would tell Harry how he treated me, but I would never do that. I only hoped that Louis would be able to tell Harry on his own time and discuss his fears.

"Have you ever told Harry about our past?" I suddenly questioned. Louis visibly tensed up, and I knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

"I... I tried to, but I couldn't get the words out," He said, setting his fork down and looking up at me with eyes full of apology. "He just looked at me with those big, innocent, beautiful eyes, and I didn't want to disappoint him. I didn't want to see the shame in his eyes when he found out the awful things I've done. I don't want it to taint the way he sees me because I don't want to lose him. He's the only person I've ever loved who truly loves me back, and I've lost too many people already. I can't handle losing him."

I looked at Louis, seeing the deeply hidden pain behind his eyes, and I realized that Louis was always happy and witty and cheeky, but I didn't know a thing about his past. I didn't know who Louis truly was; what secrets he was hiding.

Zayn was hiding behind a deep tragedy- molestation and rape by the hands of his own father along with his own self-hatred and self-harm; I was hiding behind the bruises and scars that my own father gave me- cowering away from love and happiess; Harry seemed to be hiding the fact that his home life wasn't perfect at all, infact he was cheaper than I was, but he so strong and loved life; Drew was hiding behind the hatred for his own father's betrayal, thinking that every person who was of the same sexual orientation would commit the same unforgivable acts; I had no clue what either Niall or Louis had going on in their pasts. However, I did know what Louis had now.

"You just said it, Louis. You both love each other. Remember when you figured out that Harry's mum had really bad anxiety, and you wondered why Harry never mentioned it?" I reminded, seeing Louis nod with a glum look on his face. "It's because he was afraid that you would decide you couldn't handle that. He was just as afraid of losing you as you are of losing him, but he'll listen. You just have to explain everything."

Louis gave out a sigh as he looked up at me again. "Do you really think so? I couldn't handle it if I broke his heart. It's the one thing I swore to never do to someone I loved," He confessed, but I was sure. Harry would forgive Louis' behavior in time.

"I do. You should tell him. No secrets, right?" I said. A relationship with an ocean of secrets wouldn't survive if the waters ran too deep.

"Yeah, just tell him," Drew commented, making Louis look over to him with a raised eyebrow. He looked up from his burger and shrugged, his voice muffled by the chunk of burger in his mouth. "What? I wanted to be involved."

"Next time can you at least swallow your food?" Louis asked, making Drew roll his eyes before he returned to his meal. "I'll tell him. I'll tell him tonight," Louis responded, looking back over to me with a nervous smile.

"It'll be fine. Trust me."  
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I nervously stepped up to the front door of Zayn's house, wondering what was wrong with Zayn. He never replied to any of my texts, and I was growing more worried by the second. My mind began to create multiple scenarios, each one worse than the one before.

I wrapped on the door a couple of times before I patiently waited for an answer. Colette opened the door, giving me a small smile as she stood aside to let me in. "I was just about to go out to the store. I was very unsure about leaving Zayn here alone," She commented as soon as she shut the door.

"What happened?" I immediately asked. By now I could conclude that it was a mental situation he was going through, and he was probably in some type of pain from it.

"He didn't say much to me," She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I noticed that he was going to be late for school this morning, so I went into his room to wake him up, but he was already awake. He was laying there, staring at his ceiling, and his eyes were red and puffy."

I felt my heart break for the boy I was in love with as she continued to describe his situation. To know that he was crying and that he probably didn't sleep well last night was already too much to handle. I was aching to just cuddle him and never let him go; protect him from the world just like he protected me.

"I called his name, asked what was wrong, even walked closer to him and spoke to him, but he didn't respond. His eyes were so distant and empty. It was almost as if he was sleeping with his eyes opened... until he completely broke down in tears."

I watched as Colette moved to collect her things, probably getting ready to leave to the store like she said. She looked overly worried and exhausted, and I wanted to offer to go to the store for her, but I had to be with Zayn. He needed me now more than ever.

"He was crying and yelling things too fast for me to understand. From what I got, he had a nightmare that reminded him of something, but he never clarified what. I suggested that he stay home today, and he nodded, thanking me quietly before going completely mute again."

She grabbed her keys before giving a dry laugh. I knew this was all causing her a great deal of pain and worry as well. She was the only family that Zayn truly had left. They only had each other for love and support, so it was hard to imagine seeing the only person you had to care for suffer. Not even my mum and I had to go through so much. We were slowly healing, but it felt like Zayn and Colette were slowly breaking. Not apart, but still breaking all the same.

"I'm terrified for him. More than I've ever been," She confessed, and I finally saw a tear escape from her eyes, spilling slowly down her cheek. That's where Zayn got his tough exterior from.

Colette never truly cried. She always kept a strong exterior in order to protect and care the one she loved. I guess Zayn saw that, and he thought it was the only way to survive. The difference is that Colette didn't have a dark memory haunting her every minute of every day.

"He's opening up, seeing a therapist, making new friends, finding true love. He's doing so much to try and move on, but what if..." She trailed off, holding back a sob and turning to look at me. "What if it's not enough?" She let out.

"My biggest fear is losing that boy because someone else made him believe that he was ruined." Her jaw was tight, but I saw the way her lips trembled in held back emotions. She was still standing strong, and I admired that the most about her.

"Zayn's a fighter," I said, finally speaking up in hopes of giving her some peace of mind. "Someone may have made him feel ruined, but that just means it's our job- all of our jobs- to make him see that he's just getting started. Zayn made the first move to try and get better. We owe it to him to support him and give him strength when he feels like crumbling down. And he'll get there eventually."

It's what I chose to believe; what I had to believe. I didn't want to even think about losing Zayn forever. The thought was much too painful. He was the only person that made me feel safe and protected, and he is my first love. Really my only love.

"I'm just worried," She admitted. She had every right to be. We were all worried. "I'm leaving town for a few days in the middle of the week. I have to attend and host an art gallery. I didn't want to take Zayn away from school and friends, but I don't want him to be alone when he feels this way," She expressed.

"I'll stay with him." I said the words before my brian even processed them. I had a natural instinct to be with Zayn and help him in any way I could.

"Liam, are you sure you'd be up for that?" She asked. "I wouldn't want to ruin any plans or take you away from your mum."

"She'll understand. We all just want Zayn happy, and I'll be glad to stay with him. It'd only be for a few days, but it'll be okay," I assured. I knew that I could never get tired of Zayn- no matter what.

"Thank you, Liam. I'll talk to your mum about it." She smiled before stepping closer to the door. "You can go talk to Zayn. He probably needs you very much right now."

I nodded, watching her leave the house and lock the door behind her. I turned down the hall and took a deep breath before making my way down the hall, preparing myself for whatever state Zayn would be in. If he was crying, every piece of me would feel broken.

I walked toward his bedroom, knocking on his door gently. His response came almost immediately.

"I'm fine," He called out, but his voice sounded hoarse, as if the words were ripping at his vocal chords. It was such a short response, but it seemed incredibly difficult for him to voice.

"It's Liam," I replied, hoping that he would let me in. The last thing I wanted was for him to push me away and tell me to leave. I waited quietly, hearing nothing on the other side of the door, but a reply eventually came.

"I don't want you to see me like this," He said. His words were spoken so quietly, perfectly demonstrating how much fear and shame he held inside.

A huge part of me wanted to insist that Zayn open the door and let me inside. I wanted to tell him that nothing could make me ashamed of him or change my feelings toward him, but I knew nothing would work. I couldn't get through to him that way without making his mental state worse. So, I sat against the door and respected his needs.

"Then we can talk like this. Just like we first spoke to each other," I suggested calmly. There was no use in arguing. I wanted to know what was bothering Zayn, and I couldn't figure that out if I pushed him. "I'll sit against the door and listen. I just want to know what happened, Zayn. Please tell me."

There was silence again. It lingered on longer this time, drawing out between us and making us seem more distant, but then I heard a noise. It was the sound of Zayn's bed, and I knew he was moving, standing off of it, and I wondered whether or not he's gotten out of bed at all today besides now.

There was a soft thump on the other side of the door, and when Zayn spoke, I knew he was also sitting against the door. "I had a nightmare that was more than a nightmare. It was more like a memory that I always suppressed. I hid it away, and I thought it went away," He confessed.

His breathing was labored, and I wanted more than anything to just hold him, but I knew he needed this. He needed to feel as if he was just speaking aloud to himself. He didn't need to feel as if he was being judged, eventhough I would never judge him.

"What was the memory?" I questioned, and I heard a heavy sob escape his lips. What was it like to be afraid of your own mind? More than just the simple thought of insecurity, more than just the knowledge that people spoke about you behind your back, more than the typical self-hatred and regret that flooded every human being. What was it like to be honestly afraid to think because it created such crippling pain?

"It's just a memory, Zayn. Whatever happened... it's over. No one is going to hurt you now. He can't hurt you," I stated. I wouldn't let that happen.

"He already has," Zayn acknowledged. His voice was so low and broken, and I knew he was quickly spiraling into complete darkness, but I would gladly be the bit of light he needed to survive.

"Z, I'm here. I'm here, and I love you so much. I'm in love with you, and there is nothing he can do about that now. You've come so far. You can do this." I didn't know if my words meant anything to him right now, but I still had to try.

"I'm in love with you, too," He responded, and if we were face to face right now, I would kiss him with just enough passion to show him how much he truly meant to me. But I only listened as he continued.

"It was about him, of course," He began, sniffling a bit, sounding much like a wounded puppy, and it made my heart ache. "It was about the first time I tried to fight back, and... I guess I had it because I'm basically trying to fight him all over again."

I shut my eyes and let out a breath to calm myself. It must hurt him terribly to have to go through everything all over again; to voice every part of his life aloud now. He was doing so well with it, though. So well until now.

"That day... I remember knowing that what he was doing was wrong. I remember the way he got into a fight with my mum earlier that evening, so he slept on the couch to cool things between them. And I remembered the last time they fought that way, what he did to me," His voice came out choked and chopped, each word causing him physical pain to say, but he kept going, and didn't want to interrupt him and cause him to completely break.

"I was scared that night, so I hid under my blanket, hoping and praying that he would stay away. I had the idea to leave my room and go sleep with my mum, but before I could even make the move, I heard my door being opened," I felt tears filling my eyes, the descriptions being far too real to hear. This as Zayn's truth. This was him being 100% raw and honest.

"I was completely underneath my blanket now, shaking and crying as he called out my name. I-I felt him sit beside me on my bed, and his hand pulled the blanket off of my head. T-the first thing he said to me was 'why are you crying?' and I gave no response. I couldn't," He cried, but I heard the rage in his voice. He was angry at himself.

"I laid there, tears running down my eyes and shaking like it was snowing in my room, but my mouth never uttered a sound. I was frozen in fear because I knew what was to come next," I heard him let out a shaky breath, and I was so close to opening the door. I had to see him and take care of him, but I forced myself to stay in place, knowing he needed this.

"I felt his hands on my pajama bottoms, and I couldn't control my breathing. All of the oxygen seemed to slip away from me in that moment, but my voice finally worked. I opened my mouth to scream, but it was useless as his hand muffled my cries. I have never, ever been more terrified," He confessed.

"He told me not to worry, that there was no need to cry because he was there; because he would make it better. So I pushed his hand off of my waist, and I struggled. I did all I could to claw at him and kick at him, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't scream for help. And I tried. Fuck, I tried so hard!"

Zayn was full on weeping now, and I knew not to push him for anything more. I knew he was finished. Talking about it any further would destroy him. I spoke up instead, quietly turning to face the door and moving my hand to the door knob.

"Zayn, can I come in now?" I asked, hearing him let out a small no. I felt my heart sink, fearing that I pushed him too far.

"N-no, because there's something else I have to say," He sniffled out. Every bone in my body ached, but I forced myself to calm down, leaning my forehead against the door.

"Okay. You can tell me anything, Zayn," I managed to say, eventhough I was begging to be with him right now.

"Please don't be mad. Please, please, please," Zayn cried, and my mind thought the worst. What did he do?

"I won't be mad, Zayn. I could never be mad," I comforted. I was more so afraid for him.

"I- my aunt bought two bottles of wine and a bottle of gin to take with her to the art gallery. I took them both when she was out gardening. I drank most of it, and I'm so sorry, princess. I broke our deal because the pain was too much. I wanted to forget it, but I'm so sorry," He cried. He was almost begging for mercy, but I wasn't mad. I was deeply hurt that he got so far in his mind that he needed to drink it all away.

He began mumbling out apology after apology, and I heard all of his self-hate through his tone. He blamed himself for everything, and it was very toxic for him.

"Zayn, I'm not mad," I stated strongly, confidently. He needed someone to keep him grounded, and I could do that. He's done it for me. 

"Do you hear me? I'm not mad. I'm the one who broke our deal first when I thought I lost you. I didn't eat for days. You're allowed to make that mistake. You're allowed to slip because I'll be there to catch you and pull you back up, just like you were for me," I voiced. "I'm not mad."

I sat silently, awaiting whatever he decided to do next. My hand that rested on the door knob was itching to open it, but I knew not to. Not yet.

"I need to see you," Zayn finally said, and I let out a thankful sigh before I heard him move away from the door. He opened it before I could, and I took in his appearance.

His eyes were red, so red that they seemed to hurt from tears. His hair was in disarray, and I knew he has been in bed all day. His lips were chapped and bitten, and I knew that was his way to try and hold in the hurt. He didn't look well, but I didn't care.

He stepped closer to me, and I closed my eyes as I felt his hand cup my cheek, his thumb gently rubbing over my chin. He was so careful even though he was the one breaking.

"I love you, Liam. You mean the world to me, and I don't want to lose you or hurt you or cause you any harm. I'm afraid that I'll never get better. I'll never win the fight," He confessed in a whisper, and I shook my head.

I leaned in, pressing my forehead against his, an action that has always reminded me that we were there for each other. We would be each other's support when we felt unbalanced.

"You are winning," I replied. "Every second you stay alive, every minute you speak out about what happened, and every time you tell me that you love me. You're winning."

It was silent as he took my words in, but I felt him nod a bit. "I'm not afraid," I said, deciding that he needed to hear this. "I'm not afraid of falling because I already fell. You shouldn't be afraid to get better because you're already doing it."

I heard Zayn let out a heavy breath at that, and I felt his lips finally press against mine. Maybe his lips were a bit rough and chapped, but the kiss was still perfect. It was sweet, soft, and sober. It was everything I could've asked for, and I didn't dare pull away until I felt my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen between us.

We were both panting as we pulled apart, but we didn't move very far. Our lips were still touching slightly with every breath, and I have never felt more like I was floating.

Finally, I remembered the other reason I was here.

"I, um, I brought you something," I said, moving away from him and pulling it out of my jacket. I held it out infront of him and saw him look at me in confusion.

"It's a CD that I made for you. It was actually Louis' idea," I clarified. "It has some of your favorite songs, some of mine, and the last track is... Well, it's a recording of the song I wrote for my audition. It's to remind you to be strong. That you have people rooting for you."

I watched, feeling suddenly nervous, as Zayn took the CD from my hand. All of my nerves seemed to flood away, though, as I saw a pretty little smile form on his lips.

"Thank you, princess. Want to listen to it now?" He suggested, and I only shrugged in response as he walked over to his closet, rummaging around a bit before walking back out with a small stereo. He set it on his nightstand and unplugged a light in order to plug in the stereo. He placed the CD inside, and I watched as he skipped to the last song before pressing pause.

"Lay with me," He requested, holding his hand out to me. I accepted it, and we both moved to the bed. I kicked off my shoes as he climbed on. I moved to hold Zayn, but he seemed adamant on holding me instead. "I like feeling you here. Safe," He explained, and I couldn't help but press another kiss to his lips.

As soon as we pulled away, he pressed play on the stereo, and the track began to play. There was faint instrumental that Louis helped me create, borrowing Harry's guitar. Then, my voice filled the room, and I became incredibly self-aware.

I focused on Zayn as we listened, and I saw his eyes closed, taking in every line I sang.

Maybe we're living in sin, raging within, two hearts so full of love that they got dealt a bad hand. I feel the judgment closing in, but I refuse to sink deeper into the quicksand beneath us.

Heaven's just an ounce of courage away  
And breathing hurts like hell, but you make it okay

I watched as Zayn's eyes opened, and he looked down at me. I knew we agreed on that. Every breath hurt, life hurt in general, but we would be okay. Everything felt okay as long as we had each other.

"I have another therapy session tomorrow afternoon," He said, and I nodded against his pillow. "I'm going to tell her this. I'm going to tell her everything. I'm going to fight to win this war inside of me. Courage has to outweigh fear."

I was in complete awe of Zayn. He was willing to continue fighting this war even after he's been broken down so often, and it was admirable.

"It does. And you're not alone," I promised.

"I know. I love you, Liam. Thank you for this. I really appreciate it. I think I'm going to listen to it all the time," He said, the song still playing on in the background.

"You're welcome. I love you, too," I responded, pressing another kiss to his lips. It was nice to see that he was feeling a bit better now, but I knew all of his agony was still buried deep inside. Still, I wouldn't turn away from helping him. I would fight along with him.

Courage outweighs fear. It just had to.


End file.
